The Forging of the Bonds
by jedi-from-mordor
Summary: The Weasleys and the Malfoys... old rivals. In their sixth year, Michael Weasley and Elizabeth Malfoy face a new Triwizard Tournament and a new DADA teacher... Harry Potter.
1. The Hogwarts Express

**THE FORGING OF THE BONDS**

**Chapter 1. The Hogwarts Express.**

"Have a good term," his father said. "If anything interesting happens, send me the pictures."

"Ron! Don't encourage him! I don't want any more owls from McGonagall!"

"Sorry, 'Mione," his father said, putting his arm around his mother's waist.

His mother shook her head. "Mike, you're a Prefect. You should set an example to younger students, not—"

"Wasn't dad a Prefect, mum?" he interrupted.

"Well, yes, but that's not the point—"

"Ease it, 'Mione. It'll be okay." He clasped his son's shoulder.

"Write often," his mother said. "You know your sister wants to know everything about Hogwarts."

"Well, she'll find out for herself next year, won't they?"

"Yeah."

His mother hugged him. "Don't get into trouble," she whispered. "And stay safe."

"I will, mum. Bye." He turned and got on the train. Glancing backwards, he waved back at his parents, acknowledged their return wave, and went into the train corridor.

He found the compartment he was looking for quickly enough. "Mike!" his best friend yelled across the car. "Over here!"

Michael Weasley smiled. It felt good to be back.

Getting into the compartment, he sat down across from his two best friends, David Jordan and Katherine Longbottom. Kate smiled.

"Hi, Mike," she said. "How was your summer?"

"Well, you know my mother. She insisted I do all my homework before I had any fun." His friends rolled eyes. This was a sort of tradition they had: at the start of the year, Mike whined how he wasn't allowed to wait till the last day of the holidays to do his assignments.

"Hey," a new voice said, "is this place taken?"

Mike looked up. "Why do you bother asking, like we're strangers?" he said. "Come in, Laura."

Laura Whittle, like them, was a sixth year, but she was in Ravenclaw. She was Muggle-born, and perhaps because of that, she was shy around people who grew up in wizarding families.

"Mike, did they make you Quidditch captain?" Kate asked.

"I don't think so." Mike was the lead Chaser of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"What? There was nothing about it in your letter?"

"Nope."

"Well, they certainly didn't give me the post," Kate said. She had joined the team only the year before, as Seeker. "So who do you think it will be?"

Dave shook his head, staring at Laura. "Is Quidditch all you two ever talk about?"

"Of course not," Mike assured him.

"Couldn't tell by the looks of it," Laura pushed.

"Laura…" Dave began, but they got interrupted once again.

"Having fun, Weasley?"

Mike looked up. A tall girl with long blond hair and sharp gray eyes was standing in the doorway, flanked by several other people.

"Malfoy," he said. Elizabeth Malfoy was one of the sixth year Slytherin prefects. "What do you want?"

"Did you sell your brains for pocket change, Weasley?" she said, and her cronies laughed. "They want you in the prefect car." She shrugged her shoulders. "You too, Longbottom." She looked over the compartment again. "And you, Whittle. Though it escapes me why on earth—"

All four of them drew their wands and pointed them at her. "Don't say it," Mike whispered.

Malfoy shrugged and left with her cronies. Laura brightened.

"Sorry to leave you alone, Dave," she smiled at him.

"Go ahead," he chuckled. "Like I'd want to have spend any time with Malfoy."

"Good point." Mike punched his shoulder. "Worst part of being a prefect."

XXX

The prefect meeting took up nearly an hour. Kate, Mike and Laura returned to David's compartment nearly exhausted, and found David sitting with Nathan Thomas, a fifth-year Hufflepuff.

"Hi, Nathan," Kate said quietly.

"Hello, Katherine," he answered. She sat down shaking her head. For some reason, Nathan always used her full name. With the formality Nathan carried about himself, Mike wouldn't be surprised if he started calling her 'Miss Longbottom'.

"Did you find anything about the Quidditch tournament?"

"The Head Boy and Girl don't know anything more than we do," Mike said. "I guess we'll find out tonight. We should have tryouts soon. We do need a Keeper."

"Maybe we should steal Nathan," Kate suggested. Everyone laughed at that—even Nathan, who was a very good Keeper. In last year's season, Nathan missed a total of five goals—two of them scored by Mike. Hufflepuff would have won the cup, but they got unlucky with Seekers. They did keep Slytherin from winning, though.

"Could you girls leave us?" Dave said. "We're going to change into our uniforms."

"Why do you get go first?"

Mike laughed. "There's more of us, Laura. Care to vote?"

"Uhm…"

"Besides, you take longer," he continued. "This way, we know we'll have time to do it."

Kate chuckled. "Hey, I am _not_ one of those girls who spends two hours a day putting on makeup!"

"No," Dave said. "Just one hour."

She punched him. "You'll pay for that, Jordan."

"I'm sure. We'll be quick, I promise," he said.

The girls left. Nathan grew more serious, not saying a word as they changed. "Something wrong?" Mike asked.

"You don't think they... canceled the cup?"

"They do that only when matters are very serious," Mike said confidently.

Dave nodded. "Last time they did because of the war," he said.

"That's not too likely..." Nathan muttered. "You know, why guess and worry ourselves to death? We'll know in less than an hour."

"Agreed," Mike said.


	2. The New Professor

**Chapter 2. The New Professor.**

Once all the new students were Sorted and seated, Professor McGonagall stood up. "May I have your attention," she said.

The Great Hall went quiet and the Headmistress continued. "Everyone, welcome, and welcome back. First years, please note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all students. Also, the interhouse Quidditch championship will not be held this year."

"What!" several shouts came from each table. Elizabeth Malfoy wasn't among them, but she was still disappointed. She'd hoped to try out, having practiced for much of the summer. _Damn_.

"Don't worry, the reason isn't remotely similar to the last time it happened." Elizabeth frowned. There was no Quidditch cup in what would have been her father's seventh year—except her father didn't attend. But what else, besides a war, was important enough to cancel it?

"This year," McGonagall said, "Hogwarts will be, once again, host to the Triwizard Tournament." _Oh. That. They must be nuts._ She'd heard stories about the last time they tried it... nothing from her father however. Harry Potter was involved in it... and her father never talked about Harry Potter.

"Joining us this year, as your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, will be a former participant and winner of the Tournament. Professor Harry Potter!"

Elizabeth's mouth hung open in shock. _No way_.

But there he was. She hasn't noticed him before, sitting in the corner of the High Table, wearing a hood and cloak.

"Thank you, Minerva," he said. He held his hand up. "All of you will get a chance to ask questions... about the Tournament and about... other things. However, several changes have been made to the Tournament since the last time it was held, and the full rules will be announced when our international friends from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arrive in October."

_I think I'll enter,_ Elizabeth thought. _Not that that'll do me any good._

"On an unrelated note," Professor Potter continued, "I'll be running a fencing club. If you're interested, please owl me with the times when you would be free to participate."

_A fencing club!_ Elizabeth thought. _Now that's something._ Her father had taught her how to fence, and she even used to enter tournaments. _Well, at least this year won't be a total loss_. She might even learn why her father always kept quiet about the war, Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter. All she knew (from some of her father's school mates) was that he hated Potter when he was at Hogwarts—and that the feeling was mutual.

"Now, if I recall my own days here correctly, you are starved, and will want to attack us if we continue talking a second longer. So—dig in!"

Food appeared on the plates, and everyone started eating and talking at the same time.

"Something on your mind?" her best friend, Nadine Zabini, asked.

"Just thinking about the Tournament. You think I should enter?"

"I wouldn't. Last time, the Hogwarts champion died."

"Died? But wasn't—"

"Potter?" she said. "I've heard he cheated his way into it."

"How?" Elizabeth asked. She had also heard these rumors.

"I also heard," Nadine whispered, "that he killed the other champion. Cedrin or Cedric, I think the name was."

This was not something Elizabeth heard before. "I'll ask him," she said.

"What? You've got to be crazy."

"I'm curious."

"When? In class?"

"No. At the fencing club meeting."

"I'm not joining the club!" Nadine protested. "First, there is no point to fencing, second, I'm not spending any more time around Potter than I have to."

"Well, then. I'll just have to go alone," Elizabeth said.

Nadine shook her head. They always had this argument—Nadine hated risk-taking more than anything, while Elizabeth thrived on it. _This will be no different_, she thought.


	3. The Things We Knew

**Chapter 3. The things we knew.**

Rumors and whispers had flown around the school since the welcoming feast. The chief subjects this year were the Triwizard tournament and Potter. Potter was famous for defeating the darkest wizard in recent history, Lord Voldemort... but since then, no one knew where he had been or what he did. Until now that is. So everyone was curious, as evidenced by no one being late to their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Michael, Dave, and Kate entered the classroom. "With the Slytherins," Mike muttered. "Again!"

Then he glanced ahead and gasped. An enormous black panther was lying on the professor's desk, looking at them. Since they were the last to come in, the only free desk was in the front row, right next to it.

The three Gryffindors sat down, quite nervous. Mike looked at the panther.

The panther turned its head towards him and... yawned, showing brilliant white fangs.

It stared at him with its enormous green eyes.

"Panthers aren't supposed to have green eyes," Kate whispered.

"Very good observation, Miss Longbottom," Professor Potter said. Mike blinked. The panther was gone, replaced by the new Defense teacher. "Two points to Gryffindor."

"You're an Animagus!" Dave exclaimed.

"Indeed, Mr. Jordan. Now," he continued, "What you've just seen does have bearing on the subject of this class, and that is that many things aren't quite what they seem to be."

"Like anyone doesn't know that," Mike blurted out.

Professor Potter turned to him. "What was that, Mr. Weasley?"

"N-nothing, sir," Mike said.

"A great deal of people, in fact, do not know that," he emphasized.

"Yeah, Muggles," Elizabeth Malfoy said quietly.

"Explain yourself, Miss Malfoy."

"Sir?" She stared at him.

"Your reasoning. You claimed Muggles are less observant than wizards and witches."

"Aren't they? Everyone knows—"

"Ninety percent of what 'everyone knows' is wrong. I'll have a two-foot essay from you on why you think wizards are inherently more aware than Muggles. Due Friday."

"What?!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"One point from Slytherin for that outburst, Miss Malfoy. Now," he said, looking over the class, "you really should speak up. If what you have to whisper to your neighbor has any bearing on the subject, it's worth telling the whole class. If it doesn't," Professor Potter stared at the back row where Robert Goyle and Patricia Nott were whispering in each others' ears, "you shouldn't be saying it in the first place. One point from Slytherin from each of you, Miss Nott and Mr. Goyle."

Potter resumed the lecture. "Many people do not, in fact, know that appearances can be deceiving, or forget this fact when it is most prudent to remember. A great many lives were lost in the war against Voldemort due to such failures." Several expressed shock at the mention of Voldemort's name. The only person Mike knew who used the name without having to struggle with it was his mother, and even she usually hushed down when saying it. Professor Potter was the first person he knew who used it casually.

"Let me give you an example," Potter said. "Do you know what was the most common method used by Voldemort to keep Ministry Aurors away from places he was going to attack? Yes, Mr. Jones?"

"Well, sir," the boy began, "I know that many of You-Know-Who's people infiltrated the Ministry..." he stopped.

"Go on. It actually was fewer than most people think—the results were far more damaging than pure numbers suggest. But in essence, you're right."

"But they put others under the Imperius Curse..."

"Thank you, Mr. Jones. A point to Gryffindor for daring to speak up. The Imperius Curse _was_ widely used. It's not widely known, but for almost a month, they controlled the Minister himself." Mike stared at the professor in shock, and he wasn't the only one.

Potter didn't seem to notice. "The most common method, however, was much simpler. Voldemort's agents sent out fake Ministry orders, establishing wild goose chases. It almost never prevented Aurors from getting to the real attack site, but it delayed them. Often, the delay was enough for them to kill whomever they were after, or steal what they wanted." He paused. "All because someone, somewhere, didn't check that the order they received was genuine. Was that a question, Miss Zabini?"

She coughed nervously. "Uhm, sir, don't Ministry orders always have magical signatures?"

Professor Potters smiled at her. "They do."

"But magical signatures can't be faked," she stated.

"Yes they can." A good deal of the class fell into silence.

Mike was among them, but he recovered quickly. "No, they can't!" he declared.

Professor Potter paused. "Two points to Slytherin for your question, Miss Zabini." He turned to Mike. "Now, Mr. Weasley, where did you get that information?"

"My uncle," Mike said, reluctantly.

"Which one?"

"Percy," he whispered.

"I see," Professor Potter said, as if that explained everything. Maybe to him, it did. "Well, he's wrong. Magical signatures can be faked. And you'll learn to recognize the fake ones," he added just as the bell rang. Students filed out, but Mike stayed behind. "Professor Potter?" he said.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?"

"Why did you ask me about that? I mean, it's considered common knowledge that—"

"'Common knowledge' is something that you absorb without specifically learning it, from immersion into society. Kind of like saying Voldemort's name. Parents are afraid of it, and their children pick it up without knowing anything about who Voldemort was. I wouldn't be surprised if there are people still afraid to say the name two hundred years from now, when _everyone_ who actually lived at the time of Voldemort is long gone. In your case, however, I was certain that it wasn't your parents who told you that magical signatures are unfakeable."

"Why is that?"

"Because your mother was the first to suggest the idea, and then devised a quick method for recognizing the fake signatures."

"You knew my parents?"

Professor Potter sighed. "They were my best friends."

"What happened? What came between you?"

"What else? Voldemort. Go on, Mr. Weasley. You'll be late."

Mike left the classroom. He'd heard of Harry Potter, of course, but never, not once, did he remember any mentions that his parents knew him personally. _Something strange is going on here,_ he thought.


	4. The Fencing Club

**Chapter 4. The Fencing Club.**

Elizabeth entered the Great Hall. Nadine, despite all her insistence, refused to come. They had a gigantic argument about Professor Potter. Nadine claimed he took points off Nott and Goyle because they were Slytherins, and Elizabeth said it was because they were practically snogging in class. Neither one convinced, Elizabeth left early for the first Fencing Club meeting.

Professor Potter was already there, as were several fencing swords, neatly stacked in a corner. Elizabeth, as soon as she learned about the fencing club, sent her father an owl so she could have her own sword sent to her. She took it out, inspecting the blade.

"Good evening, Miss Malfoy," he said.

_How does he know who came in when he's looking away,_ she thought. _It's creepy_.

"The window reflects," he said.

_Okay, does that make things more or less creepy?_ She couldn't decide. It explained why he knew it was here... and it made it seem that he knew that that was exactly what she was thinking.

"Sir? May I ask you something?" she said, before more creepy things happened.

"What is it?"

"What happened the last time there was a Triwizard Tournament? When—"

"When I illegally entered and won by killing the other Hogwarts champion?"

"I didn't—"

"I've learned to listen to rumors—there's usually a grain of truth to them."

"What really happened?"

"The short version is, the Defense teacher that year was a Death Eater in disguise." He waited for Elizabeth to process the information. "He and Voldemort—who didn't yet have a full body—cooked up a plan for him to return in full strength. To do that, they needed my blood. So, the Death Eater made sure I would be picked to compete, then made sure I'd win. I didn't know it at the time, of course. He was very clever about it."

"And the other champion? Ced—"

"Cedric Diggory. The third task of the Tournament was set up so that the first person to touch the Triwizard Cup would be the winner. The Death Eater managed to take out the other two, so it was Cedric and me. We made it to the cup. Either of us could have claimed it."

"You did?"

He shook his head. "He insisted I take it, and I insisted he take it. In the end, we decided to do it together."

He sighed, then continued. "The Cup was a Portkey, and it took us to Voldemort. He needed to use my blood for the resurrection, but he didn't care about Cedric. So he killed him."

Elizabeth nodded. She didn't know what to ask next, and then other people started coming in. She retreated back.

There were more people than she expected, although she and two second-year boys were the only Slytherins. Laura Whittle came in, immediately followed by David Jordan and Katherine Longbottom, but Michael Weasley wasn't anywhere to be seen. The three Gryffindors rarely split up, so this was quite unusual.

Before long, about thirty people were in the Hall. Professor Potter strolled around the room, sword in hand. Elizabeth wasn't sure what to think about this. Potter made it difficult to relax around him. She supposed it made sense for him to make students be constantly aware of their surroundings, but this might have been too much. All their Defense teachers were war veterans, and she, like all other students, sometimes wanted to get up and shout that the war was over. Since it would probably lose her fifty points from Slytherin, she suppressed the urge. She didn't get that urge with Potter... yet.

"Welcome to the Hogwarts Fencing Club," Potter said. "Since this year, even those on their house Quidditch teams will not have an opportunity for their usual exercise, this is a good way to get some physical activity. Besides," he added, "it's fun, and for some of you, could prove useful."

"Useful?" David Jordan scowled. "For what?"

"You might be surprised, Mr. Jordan," Potter replied. "For one thing, fencing is an inherent part of Auror training."

"Auror training?" a third year Ravenclaw said incredulously.

"Yes. They use it to teach you to notice danger instinctively and immediately, to focus the mind properly. And to break the over-reliance on wands that some wizards develop."

"Where's the gear?" Laura Whittle asked.

"What gear?" Potter replied.

"Protective gear... you're not suggesting we just pick up these swords and fence... sir?"

Potter stopped. "Fencing has a strong tradition in both the wizard and the Muggle world, but the protective gear you speak of is a Muggle invention—and a rather recent one at that. Wizards use specialized shield charms cast on the swords—and sometimes on themselves. However, you should know that official wizarding fencing tournaments are always fought without these charms—and with real swords."

"Now don't worry—these swords had the charms cast on them, and they are blunt. So—pick a sword, and let's see some fencing."

Potter spent most of the next two hours instructing students, teaching them proper stances, grips, and moves. He watched Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye, but he clearly decided that she knew what she was doing. She smiled. She was easily the most experienced fencer in the room. Even Kate Longbottom, with her very fast, yet reserved style was no match for her.

"Too bad, Longbottom," she said, having touched her neck with the tip of the sword.

"Miss Malfoy, you seem to have trouble finding a challenge," Potter said. "Perhaps I could remedy that?"

Elizabeth stirred, then stepped forward. He raised his sword in front of him, and bowed. She bowed back, then stood ready.

He attacked first, and she stepped back for a good block. However, that attack was feint, forcing her to turn and meet it. Before she could recover the opening, Potter's sword went through it. She felt it touch.

_Damn_, she thought. They faced each other again.

This time, she launched the first attack. Potter blocked, then attacked himself, attempting to strike her left side. She parried, and, as she moved forward to attack him, Potter ducked. Not prepared for a strike from below, she felt the edge of Potter's blade on her right leg.

Refusing to give up, she faced him again. She remembered a trick that served her well in several tournaments. It was difficult to do properly, but she succeeded in learning it.

Stepping back, she raised her sword to block any attack and jumped forward, hoping she'd get close enough to score.

Potter stepped out of the way, and she felt a tap on her shoulder just as she landed. She couldn't believe it. People weren't supposed to be that fast.

Having been to a number of wizarding fencing tournaments, she knew she was a decent fencer. Her father, who'd taught her, was a very good fencer.

Harry Potter... Harry Potter was a master.

"I think that should wrap it up for this week," he said. It was quite late.

Elizabeth stayed behind while the other students left. Potter began gathering up the swords, but then looked around and saw here.

"Miss Malfoy," he smiled. "You did very well."

"I lost."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," he said. "If you beat me, I wouldn't deserve to be the instructor, would I? I have been beaten by my instructors plenty of times."

"Have you been beaten in a tournament?" she asked.

"Yes. Twice."

"Only twice?"

"Yes. First time by my first wife." He quietly laughed. "It was rather embarrassing."

Elizabeth didn't know Potter had been married, much less twice. "Who was the second person?"

"Your father. Goodnight, Miss Malfoy." He strode out of the Hall.

At the exit, he turned, waved his wand, and the House tables flew from the walls and arranged themselves in familiar position.

"Goodnight, Professor," she said, and headed off to the Slytherin dormitories. The more she learned about her father's relationship with Harry Potter, the more she didn't know.


	5. The New Tournament

**Chapter 5. The New Tournament.**

"I still can't believe how good Malfoy is," Kate said.

"Guys, stop talking about fencing. If this is a ploy to get me to join, it's not going to work."

"Sorry, Mike. But why won't you?"

"I don't want to fence. Okay?"

"Sure, mate," Dave agreed. "Come on, let's watch the other schools arrive."

They proceeded outside, where almost all the students were gathered. Professor McGonagall and the other teachers were there as well, waiting for something. Mike watched McGonagall, who looked somewhat apprehensive.

The ground trembled, and... waves began to form on it. Professor Potter stepped forward and drew his wand.

Something began to emerge out of the disturbed ground. An enormous silver bump, which, as it rose higher, was revealed to be the top of an arch. The arch, about twelve feet wide, rose until it stood twenty feet high, and then, a marble platform emerged, complete with a staircase descending from it to the ground. Almost every student gasped, either because they didn't know what they were seeing, or because, like Mike, they had an idea and couldn't believe their eyes.

Two green stalks began growing out of the platform, entwining around the silver columns. Everyone watched them climb out, then arch towards the top. As soon as they met, there was a bright flash of light, and the entire arch began to glow. After a few seconds, the glow subsided, leaving bright white lights running from the top of the arch down the vines and into the base.

Suddenly, the lights turned from white to red, and people began stepping through. Mike still couldn't believe it, but at least his suspicions had been right.

He should have known from the design of the arch, the platform, the lights, that this was Beauxbatons. In front of everyone was a woman too old to be a student, but still looking young. She was tall, had long blond hair, and...

He recognized her. It was his Aunt Gabrielle. He hadn't seen her in a while, but he'd known she taught at Beauxbatons. _I guess she's head now._

"'Arry!" she nearly screamed. "'Arry Potter!"

"Gab... Gabrielle?" Potter said. "I can't believe it!" He stepped forward and kissed her hand. "A Portgate? I thought they forgot how to make these!" So it was true. A real Portgate. _Wow,_ Mike thought.

Aunt Gabrielle introduced her students. Since he planned on entering, he watched the delegation, thinking about who could be chosen from among them. Most of the students were girls, but they seemed to be all older than him. He knew Aunt Fleur was in the last Tournament, and finished last. Still, he didn't underestimate his Quidditch opponents, and he wouldn't do it here.

Professor Potter was talking to Aunt Gabrielle in French when a sound of an explosion turned everyone's heads towards the lake. A sailing ship appeared _in mid-air_ and slowly landed on the lake surface. The flag on top of its mast displayed the Durmstrang symbol: a brown bear on a white background. The standard unfurled just as the ship cast anchor, and the bear greeted them with a powerful roar.

A group of people, dressed in heavy brown robes and cloaks, marched up the ramp. Mike observed that the gender ratio here was the reverse of Beauxbatons students'. A fierce-looking man of medium height, with long blond hair, walked in front. This had to be the headmaster.

The man approached the group of teachers and introduced himself. "Gunther von Klausberg," he said. "It's an honor."

Professor Potter said something in German, out of which Mike only managed to pick 'Herr Klausberg'. The words caused the man to crack a small smile before turning serious again.

The teachers headed into the Great Hall with the students behind them. Aunt Gabrielle and Gunther von Klausberg took seats at the High Table. Two more tables stood in front of the hall, much smaller than the four house tables. The guests took seats and the feast began.

Mike carefully observed the newcomers. Standing out among the Durmstrang contingent were two identical twins, very tall, with short dark hair. They somehow looked familiar, though Mike couldn't place them.

Once the feast was over, McGonagall called the room to attention. A tall, dark-skinned woman in flowing red robes entered. "Welcome!" she said. "I'm Padma Patil, head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic, and one of the judges of the Triwizard Tournament."

"It was a tradition of the Tournament, that we unfortunately had to forgo the last time, that a former winner speak at the opening. Professor Potter?"

Harry Potter got up, smiled at McGonagall, and began to speak.

"The Triwizard Tournament is a wonderful opportunity to obtain new experiences, and form new ties of friendship. However... for those of you who will end up participating, you will not have much time to do that. For this, and other reasons, I strongly urge you to think extremely carefully before entering—to end up in the Tournament unwittingly is a fate I would not wish upon anyone. Also, no one under the age of seventeen will be allowed to enter—and please don't waste your time making aging potions—they won't work." A few people laughed. Potter waited for them to stop, then continued. "And finally, the Tournament itself will be a bit different."

Now even those who were still chatting among themselves stopped and looked up. For a moment, there was not a sound to be heard.

"The Tournaments of the past tested the participants' magical skills, courage, resourcefulness, and ability to think on the fly—which is all well and good. But there was one skill the Tournament did not and by its very nature could not test." He paused, scanning the room. Then he dropped the word. "Teamwork."

_Did I hear right?_ Mike thought. _How do you incorporate teamwork into the Tournament?_

Two Ministry officials brought out a pedestal with a large cup hewn out of wood. Potter tapped it with his wand, and flames filled it. "The Goblet of Fire," he said, "will select two Champions from each school out of the candidates. If you wish to enter, and are over seventeen, drop in a piece of parchment with your name and school clearly written on it."

He looked over his audience once more. "Please note that you will not know who your co-champion will be, and whatever team each school gets, will participate. Dropping your name constitutes a binding magical contract, and you will be obliged to see it through. So once again, think before you do that. Good luck to the champions. Tomorrow, you will know who you are."

"It's settled then!" Mike said excitedly. "Me and Dave are going to storm this Tournament!"

Kate chuckled. "How do you know it'll select _either_ of you?" Then, a bit sadder, she added, "Too bad I'm not yet seventeen."

"Well, as long as it's not someone from Slytherin, I can work with them."

Laura Whittle approached them. "Mike, Dave, are you sure about this... it could be dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Mike asked.

"Yeah... last time, they had the champions fight dragons."

A few younger students squealed. Mike and Dave remained nonchalant, though. "They won't go for a repeat, and I doubt that there is something _more_ dangerous that they'll use."

"Well, good luck... but Professor Potter said to consider it very carefully."

"Yeah, well, he is the one to talk. Entered underage..."

"He didn't do that on purpose!" Kate suddenly protested.

"How do you know?" Mike asked.

"My dad told me. He was there."

"So were my parents. They never said anything."

"They never said he cheated his way in, did they?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Guys, stop it," Dave interrupted.

"Yeah, sure," Kate agreed. "I doubted Mike's ego could have gotten any bigger. I was wrong."

Mike chuckled. "Sure thing, Kate."


	6. The Champions

**Chapter 6. The Champions.**

The Great Hall was decorated for Halloween, perhaps more elaborately than usual. The Goblet of Fire burned brightly in front of the High Table. The feast had almost ended.

"So," Nadine Zabini asked Elizabeth, "did you do it?"

"Of course," she answered. "Why wouldn't I?"

"It's just... you're the only Slytherin who did. You'll have someone from another house as your partner."

"Am I the only one? That's crazy!"

"Surprised me too. But none of the seventh years wanted to risk their necks, you _know _I don't want to do this, and no one else in our year is old enough—and I doubt they'd enter if they were." She snorted. "I heard Anderson whining about not being old enough this morning," she said.

Elizabeth laughed. "Me and Anderson. Some team that would be," she said. Anderson was Goyle's best friend, and Elizabeth never got along with him. "And you're probably right. As far as Nott and Goyle are concerned, they might not even be aware there is a Tournament, the way they spend all the time eating each other's faces. Like now." She pointed a few seats away.

"Liz! You didn't have to make me watch that!"

"Sorry. Can't believe someone would like to snog Goyle."

"Can't believe someone would like to snog Nott, either."

"True. They—"

"Ahem? Back to the Tournament? I heard Weasley entered."

"And Jordan. I saw them do it. Typical Gryffindor arrogance. They think it'll select them."

"Who else?"

"A few Ravenclaws. I don't know anyone from Hufflepuff, but they like surprises, so one probably sneaked in in the middle of the night."

"Hmm..." Nadine raised her head. "Did Longbottom enter?"

"I don't think so. She might not be old enough. Why?"

Nadine was about to respond when McGonagall stood up. "Your attention," she said simply.

It had an immediate effect. The Great Hall grew quieter. McGonagall raised her hand and torches dimmed. The Goblet was now the brightest thing in the room.

"The Goblet will now select the champions, two from each school," she said. "Good luck, everyone who submitted their names."

Almost twenty seconds passed before the Goblet flared up. A piece of parchment flew out of it and fluttered in the air. McGonagall caught it.

"The first champion from Beauxbatons," she announced, "will be Fatima Dubois."

A tall, swarthy, slim girl with long black hair stood up and headed towards the teachers' table. A few cheers were heard from the other Beauxbatons students.

The Goblet flared again. "The first Champion of Durmstrang is Boris Krum!"

Elizabeth had noticed the Krum twins in the delegation, and she knew their father was a Triwizard Champion himself. Boris' twin patted his brother on the back as he got up. Truth be told, Elizabeth hardly cared, considering the matter of the Hogwarts champion.

"The first champion from Hogwarts," McGonagall said, "will be Michael Weasley!"

Elizabeth gasped, cursed, and then pounded her fist on the table.

"Liz?" Nadine nudged her.

"Weasley! Why him?"

"Liz, it's—"

"Damn that piece of pottery! Waste of good wood and magic!"

"Liz, you still might—"

"Weasley and me—the best team Hogwarts can field? Don't make me laugh."

"—Veronique Rossi!" McGonagall said. Elizabeth no longer paid attention.

The Goblet flared again. "The second Durmstrang champion will be Leonid Krum!"

The second twin got up and joined his brother. All the candidates already departed through a back door.

Elizabeth shook her head.

"It'll probably be Jordan," she said. "Two sets of best friends and a pair of twins."

"You're a lot better at magic than Jordan," Nadine insisted. "Or Weasley, for that matter."

"The final selection of the evening, the second Hogwarts champion, is..."

_Get it over with, bitch_, Elizabeth thought.

"Elizabeth Malfoy!" McGonagall said loudly.

"What?!" shouts came from all over the place, including Elizabeth's own mouth.

"Elizabeth Malfoy!" McGonagall repeated.

"Go on, Liz," Nadine told her, and smiled.

Elizabeth saw no choice but to do so. _What was the Goblet of Fire thinking, pairing me with Weasley..._

McGonagall pointed her towards the back door and gave her a smile of encouragement. But as she was leaving, Elizabeth also saw McGonagall make a gesture to Professor Potter, who immediately got up.

Elizabeth headed through a hallway and almost immediately saw Weasley.

"Hey, Da— What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Weasley demanded.

"What do you think? I am the other champion."

"That's impossible! There must be a mistake!"

"Indeed not, Mr. Weasley." Potter seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

"Professor, this—"

"Is impossible? Why? The Goblet selects those best qualified from each school."

"I can't work with him!"

"I can't work with her!"

"So you agree on something," Potter said. "That's a start." _What?_

"Anyway," he continued, "you're both wrong. You can, and you will."

"Can't I withdraw?" Weasley said.

"I believe," Potter said, "that I made it clear last night that you cannot. I believe the rules have been posted in both your common rooms. You met when you came to place your names in the Goblet." He looked at both of them. "You knew this could happen."

"I thought—" Weasley attempted.

"You thought this was going to be fun. You thought you'd have your friends alongside you. You thought you could show off not only your Hogwarts pride, but also your Gryffindor pride. Well, you've just learned something—that's not how things are."

"The Tournament is about using your training, intelligence, and bravery to overcome obstacles placed before you—wherever they come from."

"Your allies are not always who you think they are—and neither are your enemies. That's how it was during the war."

"The war is over, Professor."

"There'll be another."

"How—"

"Sooner or later, history will repeat. Someone will decide that the Dark Arts are the way to power, and start tempting others to follow. I am certain there will be another Voldemort."

"I agree," Weasley said, and pointed at her.

This made Elizabeth very angry. Potter, however, interrupted her impulse to pull out her wand and hex Weasley.

"Put your wand down, Mr. Weasley. I will not have any of it."

Why? She's a Malfoy. You know—"

"I know a lot more than you do, Mr. Weasley!" Elizabeth had never seen Potter angry before. "The Goblet of Fire—"

"Damn the Goblet!" Michael lost all self-control. "Damn the Tournament! Damn you,"—he jumped at Elizabeth— "you spawn of a Death Eater! And damn you!" he yelled at Potter. Suddenly he stepped back, realizing he'd gone too far.

"Detention, Mr. Weasley," Potter said quietly. "And fifty points from Gryffindor."

He gasped. Elizabeth was also surprised—Potter was quick to take off points when people disrupted his classes, but he never took more than ten points at once.

"Now," he said, "thanks to your dispute, Hogwarts already looks bad, since you missed the briefing for the first task. I'm sure Professor McGonagall will be happy about that. So here's the deal. The first task is secret. Friday, November thirteenth. Nine in the morning. Hogwarts grounds. Wands only. Whether you are there, or not, the Tournament proceeds. Mr. Weasley, you better get back to your dormitory. Curfew takes effect in four minutes. Miss Malfoy, follow me."

As they walked, Elizabeth muttered, "This won't work," under her breath.

Potter heard her. "Why not, Miss Malfoy? To be honest, I am not very happy with you either right now, although, to your credit, you were a lot more mature than Mr. Weasley."

"I. HATE. HIM."

"Why?"

"Why do you care?"

"Part of my job."

"What?"

"Think about it. You can figure it out."

"But—"

"Think about it."

"Do you really believe what you said, back there?"

"What?"

"There will be another Vol-... Vol-... another Dark Lord?" she said, embarrassed she couldn't pronounce the name.

"Yes, I do."

That nearly shocked Elizabeth. "Then... what's the point of your job?"

Potter stopped. "Ahh... well, my job is _not_ to stop the next Dark Lord from arising."

"Then—"

"I have to try to do that, of course. But sooner or later, I, or one of my counterparts at other magic schools, will fail, or someone will learn the Dark Arts by themselves... I can't guarantee a stop to that."

"Then—"

"My job is to make sure that, when another Voldemort arises, there will be another Albus Dumbledore, another Arthur Weasley, another Alastor Moody, another Hermione Granger, another Draco Malfoy..."

"Another Harry Potter," Elizabeth said.

Potter didn't reply. "The people who can do the right thing, rather than the easy thing. They can fight for the world—and they make it worth fighting for. A world of Peter Pettigrews and Dolores Umbridges, of Cornelius Fudges and Lavender Browns—the Dark Lord is welcome to such a world."

They were now outside the entrance to the Slytherin dorms. "Good night, Miss Malfoy," he said, and turned away.

_I don't care what Potter says,_ Elizabeth thought as she headed inside. _I can't work with Weasley_.


	7. Through the Night

**Chapter 7. Through the night.**

Michael entered the Gryffindor common room and was greeted by a loud cheer. "Congrats, Mike!" Kate shouted, hugging him. Dave playfully punched him on the shoulder.

Mike wished he could be happy.

He slumped down on the couch. "We're going to lose this," he said.

"What?"

"Hogwarts. We're going to lose this tournament. It's going to be dependent on teamwork with Malfoy. We're going to lose. Twin brothers from Durmstrang, best friends from Beauxbatons, and... Malfoy and myself. Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen."

None of his friends knew what to say. "I'm going to bed," he told them.

He did go up to the dorm, but he didn't sleep. Instead, he pulled out a quill and a piece of parchment, and began to write.

_Dear mum and dad,_

_If you haven't heard by now, there is a Triwizard Tournament this year at Hogwarts, and I entered to compete. I have been selected. However, each school now has two champions, and I've got Malfoy as a "partner". That's bad enough, but Professor Potter seemed pleased with that, and gave me detention when I said I couldn't work with her. How am I supposed to? Her father probably taught her all about the Dark Arts, he is a Death Eater after all. For all I know, she'll try to kill me for being a half-blood. Anyway, could you do something? I want Hogwarts to win this tournament—_I_ want to win this tournament. With Malfoy as my co-champion, neither of these things will happen. I hope you can help._

_Love,_

_Mike._

_P.S. First task is at 9 A.M. on Nov. 13. Will you come to watch?_

Mike sealed the letter and sneaked out of the dorm to the Owlery. He was risking another detention, but he didn't really care. This was too important to wait.

He found Annabel, his owl, and gave her a treat. "Take this to mum and dad, will you?" The owl hooted and flew off.

"Whining to your parents, Weasley?" He turned around. Malfoy was tying a letter to the leg of large black owl. The bird gave a hoot as it disappeared into the night.

"I could ask you the same," he said.

"I hear them, my pet," a quiet voice said from below.

"Filch!" Mike whispered.

"No shit, We—"

"Shut up!"

Not saying anything, both of them tiptoed out of the Owlery and into the corridor. Mike looked right. Filch was there, seen thanks to the pale moonlight shining through one of the castle windows. There was no sign of Mrs. Norris.

Mike headed left, although this meant a longer route back to the Gryffindor dorms. He looked behind. Malfoy was following... no, _heading in the same direction_. That was different.

They turned a corner, and Mike froze in fear.

Pale yellow eyes were staring at him. Mr. Norris meowed and ran off.

"Run!" he shouted for some reason to Elizabeth and ran himself. He had a plan, but the presence of Malfoy complicated things. He didn't want to show this to her. However, one detention was bad enough, and he didn't want another.

Safety won over. Mike ran to a familiar wall and tapped a large stone apple with his wand twice. He then breathed and ran through the wall. Moments later, Malfoy bumped into him from behind.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Disguised chamber. You have to know exactly where to tap to make the wall permeable. Filch's a Squib, so he couldn't get in even if he knew about it—which he doesn't. We're safe."

"Yeah, Weasley. Whatever." He heard rustling of robes. "_Lumos!_" Malfoy said.

Mike yelped. Right in front of him was the head of large black cat.

A panther.

The panther sprang up and was replaced by the form of a man. "Filch doesn't know about this place," Potter said, "but I do." He stepped through the wall and beckoned them to follow. "Another fifty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley. Miss Malfoy, you will be joining Mr. Weasley tomorrow in detention. And twenty points from Slytherin."

He escorted them both to the dormitories. "And stay inside this time, will you?" he told Malfoy.

Later, at the picture of the Fat Lady that represented the entrance to the Gryffindor dormitories, Mike finally worked up the courage to confront Potter. "Professor, this is not fair! You took only twenty points from—"

"I didn't give you a second detention. Good night, Mr. Weasley," he said, and watched carefully as Mike entered the room, and had the Fat Lady close the door behind him.


	8. Swords and Sorcery

**Chapter 8. Swords and Sorcery.**

The next morning, Elizabeth came down to breakfast late. She sat down next to Nadine and poured herself a large cup of coffee.

"We're going to lose this," she said. "Thanks to the infinite wisdom of the Goblet of Fire, Hogwarts will lose this tournament." She paused. "And I've got detention."

"For what?"

"Curfew violation. Thanks to Weasley."

"Huh?"

"He had a great idea for a place to avoid Filch. Too bad Potter knew about it."

"On the plus side, Gryffindor dropped from first to third in the house point tally. And we're only ten points behind Ravenclaw."

"How did that happen?" Nadine asked.

"Weasley," she replied. "Potter took a hundred points from him yesterday."

"A hundred? At once? Potter?"

"No. Fifty twice."

"I thought Potter was himself a Gryffindor."

"He was. But... I don't know. He doesn't favor them. And last night, he was very angry."

"Why do you talk to him so much?"

"It's interesting. Other teachers treat us like children. He doesn't. Yesterday, he told me that he believes there'll be another Dark Lord someday."

"Is he nuts?" Nadine demanded.

"No, I don't think so."

"Whatever. Be careful, Liz."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I'm more worried about Weasley than Potter," she said, smiling at her friend. "We have to serve detention together."

"Ouch," Nadine said.

The rest of Elizabeth's day was quite ordinary. They didn't have Defense, and none of her other classes were with Weasley. At eight o'clock, she headed towards Potter's classroom.

Weasley was already there. He glared at her.

"Your wands," Potter said. Both of them got their wands out. He took them.

He headed into his office. "Come in," he said. Both of them followed.

Potter's desk had several essays strewn about it, in addition to three picture frames. Elizabeth didn't see the pictures. Potter put the essays away, and locked the desk.

She and Weasley stood quietly. Elizabeth took a closer look. Several broomsticks hung on the walls. A large, full bookshelf stood in one corner of the office. Across from it was a tall cabinet. That's where Potter was heading now.

He unlocked the doors, which swung open. Elizabeth expected many things, but this wasn't one of them.

The closet—and the inside walls of the doors, as well—was full of swords.

Short, long, curved... with handles of all colors, shapes and materials. Elizabeth was certain all the swords were different. _This must be worth a fortune_, she thought. _So Potter is a sword collector... I'd never think that, looking at him._

Weasley was less impressed. "Swords, sir?"

"Swords," Potter replied, stressing the word as if it had some deep meaning. He got out several tools and cans of supplies. "And you will be sharpening and polishing every single one of them."

"Oh," Elizabeth said. _I thought it might be something like this_.

"I'll be back at midnight to return your wands. And if I find any damage to my swords... well, it won't be pretty. _None_ of these swords can be replaced, for _any_ amount of money." With that, he left the room. The lock clicked.

Elizabeth looked at the wall. A lot of swords... not enough time.

"This is your fault, Weasley," she said. "'Hide in here', 'we'll be safe', 'Filch doesn't know'," she mocked.

"I was right about that last one, wasn't I? And no one made you follow me."

"Shut up, Weasley. Let's get this over with."

Elizabeth went to the cabinet and took out a long, curved sword with a black handle. It was a well-made scimitar of tempered steel. The handle has several emeralds in a gold band where the blade and handle met.

The sword needed to be sharpened. Elizabeth picked up a whetstone and started.

Fortunately, Potter's collection was well organized. Each sword had a number, and each stand inside the closet was marked with that number and a small picture of the sword. All they needed to do to keep track was to write down the numbers of swords that they finished working on on the blackboard.

Several hours passed in... well, not silence—sharpening swords by hand made a lot of noise—but without anything being said.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Weasley suddenly shouted.

"What?" she replied, annoyed at the distraction.

"Check this out." He handed her a broadsword with several large rubies in the handle. Down the blade, a row of letters were engraved on the sword. They were blocky, but still recognizable. _Godric Gryffindor_.

This was Gryffindor's sword! How did Potter come about it?

"Uhm... what number is it?"

"One."

If, as Elizabeth assumed, Potter numbered his swords in the order of acquisition, the collection began with this. _Potter wasn't joking when he said they can't be replaced. At least in this case._

Elizabet stood up and tried a few swings. "Hey—" Wesley tried to stop her, but she continued.

"Hey, stop wasting time—"

Elizabeth kept going through the motions of a fencer's warm-up. This sword was a lot heavier than what she was used to.

"Hey, cut it out!" Weasley shouted, and grabbing a sword of his own, swung at her.

Elizabeth was struck by surprise, and Gryffindor's sword flew out of her hands. Weasley stood in front of her, holding a short, wide sword on a handle of black wood.

"Oh, you'll get it, Weasley," she said, and, instead of picking up Gryffindor's sword, ran to the cabinet and grabbed another. Then she rushed at Weasley.

He tried to block, but, having never fenced in his life, it was almost too simple to stop that. One skilled strike opened a small wound on his hand, causing him to drop the sword. Elizabeth pressed the blade to his neck.

"Hey—" he began. She moved the blade closer.

"Miss Malfoy, do you know how long it takes to get blood off a blade?" Professor Potter asked from the doorway.

Elizabeth pulled back. "Professor, she tried to kill me!" Weasley protested.

"Pick up that sword, Mr. Weasley," Potter said. He did so.

Potter, meanwhile, leaned down to pick up the sword of Gryffindor. He ran his finger across the blade.

"Which of you tried to fight with this one?" he asked.

"I did," Elizabeth admitted.

"What was it like?"

"The sword felt... heavy. And one hit from him, and I just couldn't hold it."

"As it should be..." Potter muttered.

"Why?" Elizabeth demanded. "Because I'm a Slytherin?"

"No, nothing like that," Potter replied. "You see, these swords... they have minds of their own."

"What nonsense," Weasley said.

"I might have expected that from a Muggle-born, but I'm surprised to hear it from you. Have you ever tried using someone else's wand?"

"Of course."

"What was _that_ like?"

"Harder. Even the simple spells needed effort."

"Well, these swords are the same way. Their crafters imbued a certain personality to them. All of them can bond to one particular person, and not release that bond until the person's death. Sometimes they pass through many hands before finding that person."

"Even without such bonds, there are people swords like and don't like. And once bonded, a sword will resist any other user." He looked at Elizabeth. "You tried to use a bonded sword."

"Gryffindor's sword is bonded? To whom? Gryffindor has been dead—"

"For a thousand years. But a sword can find a new partner. This one did so at least twice. Currently," he said, "it is bonded to me."

"Now, let's see which swords chose you."

"You mean, which swords _we_ chose?" Weasley corrected him.

"I meant what I said, Mr. Weasley. The swords chose you." He put Gryffindor's sword away and picked up the short weapon Weasley had used.

"What? Is it the sword of Slytherin, or something?" Elizabeth wanted to laugh. _Keep dreaming, Weasley. _She didn't even know if one existed.

"No," Potter said. "This is Charles Martell's sword used at Tours."

"What are you talking about?" Elizabeth said, confused.

"Oh. Here's a little lesson in Muggle history. During the Middle Ages, Spain was conquered by the Moors, and they were invading France. Charles Martell was a Muggle king who stopped them in a great battle in 732."

"This is a Muggle sword?" Weasley asked.

"It was made by a wizard," Potter replied. "It was meant to be used by a Muggle, so its magical properties are well-hidden. But they are there. This sword has bonded with Muggles, Muggle-borns, and half-bloods, but never with pureblood wizards. Do you want it?"

"Uhm..."

"Think about it, then get back. It'll be waiting for you." Potter placed the sword back into the closet. "Now, let's see yours."

Elizabeth handed him the sword. It was the long scimitar she first worked on.

"Ahh... did you know this sword was made by Salazar Slytherin?"

"What?"

"Yes. Interesting choice. I'll sell it to you for two sickles."

"Two sickles! Do you have any—"

"I am perfectly aware of the value. I don't care. The sword likes you. I'd give it away for free if it wasn't dangerous."

"Dangerous?"

"This sword has a long and bloody history. It was given by Salazar to a visiting Arab wizard as a parting gift. Years later, after Slytherin left Hogwarts, the two ran into each other, had a dispute, and the other wizard killed Salazar with this sword."

"This sword killed Salazar Slytherin?" Elizabeth asked, not willing to believe it.

"Good riddance," Weasley said.

"Really, Mr. Weasley?" Potter asked. "You think so?"

"I fit wasn't for Slytherin, we wouldn't have You-Know-Who."

"Nonsense. There are dark wizards everywhere—even where they've never heard of Hogwarts or Slytherin. For that matter, Muggles are quite capable of evil. How do you explain that?"

"There has never been a Muggle-born dark wizard."

"Sure there have. Andrew Seward."

"The American Death Eater? How did they—"

"Voldemort knew, and didn't care. He lied to the rest. He was a very skilled Occlumens, so he managed to hide it."

Seeing that Weasley didn't have an immediate counter, Potter turned back to her. "Back to your sword, Miss Malfoy. Since what happened to Slytherin, the sword had a curse on it. Frequently, when the sword changed hands, the previous owner eventually ended up getting killed by it. But,"—he lifted his finger— "this happened only when the sword was given away as a gift. If it was sold, lost and found, captured, or stolen, the curse didn't work. So I will not give it away to you—but selling, even at a symbolic price, should be safe. If it becomes yours, don't give it away."

"And now, your detention is over," he said, handing them back their wands. "Goodnight, Mr. Weasley," he said as the Gryffindor left the office. "Do you have something else to say, Miss Malfoy?" he asked as he put the sword away and locked the cabinet.

"Sir? Who was the last person to receive that sword as a gift?"

Potter sighed. "Me."

"Did the curse work?"

Another sigh. "Unfortunately, it did. Goodnight, Miss Malfoy."

Elizabeth left. Without a doubt, Potter was the strangest man she'd ever met.


	9. The Task Begins

**Chapter 9. The task begins.**

The days ran by very quickly, and before he knew it, Mike found himself two hours away from the first task. He hadn't talked to Malfoy since the detention, but he had decided he would go through with the Tournament. If Hogwarts lost, let it be _Malfoy's_ fault, not his.

At eight o'clock, after a quick breakfast—Mike was too nervous to eat, so he just drank coffee—he headed outside.

Almost the entire school was gathered at the lake. A small island appeared in the center. He was pretty sure they'd have to get there. _Lucky I'm a good swimmer_, he thought.

"Mum! Dad!" he called when he saw his parents, standing with his sister Lauren.

"Hello, son," his father, Ron Weasley, said. "Congratulations on being a champion."

"Thanks, dad..."

"Ron!" his mother chided him. "Aren't you worried?"

"Of course, honey. About Malfoy. My advice," he told Mike, "is hex her at the first opportunity. You'll do better alone."

"Ron, how can you—"

"Speak of the devil," Mike said.

Professor Potter and Elizabeth Malfoy were heading towards them.

"Well, well," Ron said. "Look what the cat dragged in."

"Ron, will you—" Hermione tried to stop him.

"How's the slut?" he asked. Mike gasped. _What?_

Potter's eyes flared in anger. "Don't insult my wife."

"Is she a better fuck than Ginny? How many brats have you produced by now?"

"Ron, stop it—"

"Why the hell should I stop? He killed my sister!"

"Voldemort killed your sister," Potter replied.

"And you helped! If you didn't decide to save Malfoy's—"

"Pansy died too, you know."

"She deserved it."

"How dare you!" Elizabeth rushed at Ron.

Potter firmly gripped her shoulders, holding her back. "Save your strength, Miss Malfoy. You'll need it."

He turned to Ron. "But she has the right idea. You do not tell a child her mother deserved to die. Ever. Unlike you, I know how that feels."

"You—"

"_Arachnidia!_" Potter shouted, pointing his wand at the ground. A two-foot long, hairy black spider popped up in front of Ron, who instinctively leaped away.

"Mr. Weasley," he turned to Mike. "Miss Malfoy. It is time."

His mother stepped forward, drew her wand, and vanished the spider. "Harry," she said. "That was cruel."

Potter gave her a look. "I know."

Mike headed towards the lake, trying to stay as far away from Malfoy as possible. A blond man stepped away from a group of spectators and headed towards Potter.

"I told you it was best for you to stay here, Draco," the Defense teacher said.

"Go ahead. Gloat. Well done, you predicted the obvious. What did he say?"

"The usual. I killed Ginny. Pansy deserved to die."

"He—"

"Draco, I don't want a scene."

"You already caused one yourself."

"Don't make it worse."

"Fine." He hugged his daughter. "Be careful."

"I will, daddy."

"If you hurt her, you are dead," he told Mike, who gasped and looked at Potter. The professor said nothing until the elder Malfoy had finally headed off.

"Miss Malfoy," Potter said, "Michael Weasley is not his father."

The girl stared at Potter, who then turned to Mike. "Mr. Weasley," he said. "Elizabeth Malfoy is not her father." And he strode off before either of them could reply.

They resumed their trek towards the lake without talking. The other contestants were already there, as were three boats with oars.

"Welcome to the first task of the 117th Triwizard Tournament!" Mike recognized the voice. It was Lee Jordan, David's father. He smiled.

"As you can see, an island has been created in the center of that lake. On the island, there are three large poles, each one holding the flag of one of the participating schools. The contestants need to get their school's pole back to the mainland."

_That's it? _Mike thought. _A boat race? That's the best they could come up with?_

"Two things have been done in order to complicate the task. First, no summoning broomsticks. Any team that attempts this will be automatically disqualified."

He heard Malfoy mutter something unpleasant. He looked at her. "Was that your plan?" She didn't reply.

"Second..." Jordan paused for effect, "...there are three hydras in the lake."

_Oh, shit_.

Padma Patil stepped out, and her voice, enhanced by the _Sonorus_ charm, rang out.

"You will move on the count of three," she said.

"Weasley!" Malfoy suddenly barked at him.

"What?"

"There's something you should know..."

"Spit it out!"

"I can't swim."


	10. The Task Continues

**Chapter 10. The task continues.**

Weasley blinked, then became angry. "You're telling me this _now_?"

"I didn't know we'd have to go into the lake!"

Weasley shook his head. "Just stay in the boat," he said.

"One!" Padma Patil said, bringing everyone to attention. "Two! Three!" She sent up a flash of energy out of her wand, which crossed half the sky, leaving a trail of smoke, and exploded; the starting signal.

The three pairs of contestants rushed to the boats. Elizabeth saw Weasley take the oars and nearly laughed.

"Weasley," she said, "are you a wizard or not?"

She tapped her wand, and the oars began to row by themselves.

The boat moved off.

"And the lead is taken by the Krum twins of Durmstrang, with the unlikely duo of Elizabeth Malfoy and Michael Weasley of Hogwarts in second place," Jordan announced.

"Could they find someone less annoying?" she asked.

Weasley shrugged. "Do you have a plan?"

"How? Did any of our classes have a section on fighting hydras?"

"Well, no. But..."

"Just remember not to cut off any of its heads, or—"

"I know what happens when you cut off a hydra's head. How many heads do they start out with?"

"One, like any normal creature. Although... they might not have one by now."

"Great." Weasley tightened his grip on the boat's rudder. "Can you make it go faster?"

"If I could, I would."

A large, scaly head emerged from the water. Weasley turned the rudder abruptly in order to avoid it. Elizabeth nearly fell out of the boat.

"Couldn't you at least give a warning?" she yelled.

"Do something, Malfoy!" he retorted, as he made another sharp turn.

"The Hogwarts team has encountered their hydra!" she overheard Lee Jordan's commentary.

She raised her wand. "_Accio swords!_"

"What good will that do?!" Weasley shouted, giving the rudder another turn. "You just lectured me on the dangers of cutting—" Seeing the hydra—with two heads, Elizabeth noted—attack them, he drew his own wand. "_Aguamenti Calorio!_" he bellowed.

A stream of steaming water emerged from his wand, striking one of the hydra's heads. It reeled back.

"There are other things you can do with a sword besides cutting a neck, Weasley," Elizabeth snapped. The other head of the monster lunged at them, and Elizabeth hit it with a Conjunctivitis Curse. She missed the eyes, but it did give Weasley time to turn the boat away.

Then she extended her hand, and caught the sword. The same sword Potter said had bonded to her in detention... made by the hand of Salazar Slytherin.

Although she would die before admitting it, Weasley's idea of using hot water was good. She sent a fountain at the monster's head. It barely slowed the hydra down.

The beast had learned, and closed its eyes. _Damn_.

The head lashed out with a two-foot long tongue. Without thinking, Elizabeth swung her sword, cutting it off.

"See?" she asked, as the creature turned to frenzy in its pain, but then Weasley nearly broke the rudder trying to steer away from it. Elizabeth fell to the floor of the boat.

"What good is avoiding the hydra if you're going to get us killed with your steering, Weasley!" she growled.

"Get out of the boat! We're here!"

They jumped out and quickly waded from the shallow water.

"_Accio pole!_" Elizabeth yelled. Nothing happened.

"Worth a try." She shrugged. "Some protective spell. Look out!"

Weasley could see the danger himself—the hydra was coming ashore, blood sprouting from one of its mouths.

"Go!" she shouted at Weasley. "I'll hold it off!"

Seeing that he was about to argue, she aimed her wand at him. "Now!"

Weasley ran to the center of the island. "_Incendio!_" Elizabeth said, conjuring up a line of fire between herself and the hydra.

"_Don't like that, huh? Relashio!" She sent sparks at the water monster. Come on, Weasley. Hurry up, damn you._


	11. The Task Concludes

**Chapter 11. The task concludes.**

Mike ran to the center of the island, where two poles with banners stood. The Durmstrang pole was already taken. One of the Krum twins was twenty feet away, running towards the shore.

The Durmstrang student suddenly turned and raised his wand. "_Protego!_" Mike shouted, at the same time as his opponent yelled "_Stupefy!_" The spell bounced off his shield.

Enraged, Mike began a curse of his own, but then the other twin yelled something to his brother, who broke off and ran. _Must be trouble with their hydra, _Mike thought. _Good thing, too._

He sprinted towards the Hogwarts pole, and pulled it out of the ground. Then he ran back.

"Malfoy, get in the boat and start!" he yelled. "_Expecto Patronum!_"

A large eagle emerged out of his wand and charged the monster. The Patronus could only do harm to Dementors, but its bright light could distract and temporarily blind the hydra.

Malfoy was shocked, but, quickly recovering, she ran to the boat. He jumped in after her. "Hold this," he said, passing her the staff. He grabbed the rudder.

"Why should—"

"Shut up and fight it!" he snarled. His hands were already covered in blood from gripping the steering handle too tightly. _If I knew, I would have brought gloves_.

Malfoy sent a stream of hot water, which again had no effect. Mike, however, appreciated a delay of even a fraction of a second.

Malfoy didn't have time for a spell. She swung her sword with enormous force, and loped the hydra's head off.

Mike screamed in horror. "Oh, now you've done it!" he yelled at her.

"My sword!" she shrieked. She didn't manage to hold on to it, and the weapon had disappeared into the lake.

"Fuck!" Mike said.

The hydra, now with three heads instead of two, attacked the boat.

"_Stupefy!_" Elizabeth yelled, but the scaly skin absorbed the attack.

_Hydras are reptiles,_ Mike remembered. He pressed the rudder with all his strength, trying to evade the enemy.

"Aaah!" he heard Malfoy yell. The girl couldn't hang on, and fell into the lake.

_Crack!_ The rudder handle couldn't take the tightness of the turn either. Mike lost his steering mechanism.

"Shit!" he said. But he wouldn't give up.

Summoning as much power as possible, he cast the spell. _Good thing I chose to take Advanced Transfiguration_, he thought.

The boat beneath him transformed. He felt sharp points forming underneath his feet... the tips of the oars split into five tip points each, and along with the rest of the boat, turned dark green. Within seconds, Mike was standing on the back of a large crocodile. The animal wasn't quite whole—it was missing the tip of its tail, which Mike supposed was the consequence of the boat having a broken rudder.

He cast the bubble-head charm on on himself and dived into the lake, leaving the crocodile and the hydra to duke it out.

He swam almost straight down. "_Lumos,_" he said. The tip of his wand produced a light to counter the murk that quickly grew with depth.

He found Malfoy, helplessly sinking. She still clutched her wand in one hand and the prize staff in the other. Mike quickly swam up and brought her head into the bubble.

She coughed. _Damn, I don't know anything about this. I've got to get her to the hospital wing_.

He held her with one arm, using the other to keep her head in the bubble. He paddled towards the shore with his legs.

He didn't know how long it took him. It might have been fifteen minutes. It could have been an hour. But finally, it was shallow enough that he emerged from the water, carrying an unconscious Malfoy in his arms.

His father and mother, Malfoy's father, and Professor Potter ran up to him.

"Mike!" his mother yelled.

Professor Potter looked at Malfoy. "She'll be all right," he told her father. "Let's get her to Madam Pomfrey."

Potter took the girl from him, and together with her father, they carried her away. Mike sat down. Until now, he didn't realize how heavy she was—or how tired he'd become. Or, for that matter, how cold the lake had been.

His mother cast a drying spell.

"Mike, Mike!" Dave and Kate ran up. "Sorry we couldn't get here earlier," Kate said. "You all right?"

"I guess. Krum—"

"What did he do?" his father demanded.

"Tried to stun me when I came to get the pole." He growled.

"Is that allowed?" Kate asked.

His mother looked at her. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Hermione?" His father looked shocked.

"In the tasks when contestants entered together, all bets—except, of course, stuff that's illegal anyway—like the Unforgivables—are off. That has been the case in every Tournament since its inception. Attempts to sabotage the competitors' chances _before_ the task are forbidden, but during the event, anything goes."

She suddenly realized something. "Mike, did you know that?"

Mike nodded, and grinned. "Yes. That's why I was ready."

His father clasped him on the shoulder. "Congratulations, son."

"Come on, Mike," Dave said. "Let's get back to the common room."

As they departed, he heard his father telling his mother, "I was right. He would have done better alone."

Mike was shocked, first at his father's words, and then at the realization in his mind. _He has no idea how wrong he is_.


	12. Results and Consequences

**Chapter 12. Results and consequences.**

Elizabeth was bored. Her father had to leave before she awoke, and Nadine had visited earlier, but couldn't stay, having received detention from Professor Flitwick. And Madame Pomfrey insisted she spend the night here. She knew better than to argue with the nurse. If she did, Pomfrey would just give her a sleeping potion. She didn't like those.

"Miss Malfoy, you have a visitor," Pomfrey said. Then she left. _Who could it be?_

Weasley walked in and sat down on the chair next to her bed. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," she replied. _What's he playing at?_

"Are you all right?"

"I will be, as soon as Pomfrey lets me out."

"Bored?"

"Yeah, I'm—how did you know?"

He laughed. "Do you have any idea how many times I've been here? Half my Quidditch matches ended in injuries."

"Might have been more than half, if they let me play."

"Why don't they?"

"Goyle doesn't think girls should play Quidditch."

"So he'd rather get creamed by every other team? I mean, he himself is a decent Beater, but Smith is pathetic."

"I know. I could do much better. For that matter, I could be a better Keeper than the one we had last year."

"Oh? You think you can hold against me?"

"We should find out sometime."

"Maybe we should," he agreed.

"So how did we do?"

"In what? Oh, you mean the Tournament."

"Of course I mean the Tournament, Weasley. Are we in last place?"

He cursed. "Unfortunately, yes. Durmstrang won, of course—even though McGonagall took off points for their tactics."

"What tactics?"

"One of the twins tried to stun me as I was getting the pole. You probably didn't notice."

"I had other things to concern myself with, Weasley—like the hydra."

"Don't blame you. Anyway, he tried a stunning spell, I got a shield charm up just in time. He couldn't wait to do anything more, and retreated."

"That bastard!" She couldn't contain herself. "He would have left me to finish the whole thing alone!"

"That was probably his plan. Didn't work, but they got into the boat and made it back first. So, Durmstrang. Forty-one out of fifty. And five of the ones they lost were taken off by McGonagall."

"You're kidding. She gave them five out of ten?"

He nodded. "Klausberg was outraged. He thinks McGonagall had no right to take off points for doing something completely within the rules. Not to mention it didn't work."

"What about Beauxbatons?" she asked.

He smiled. "They had a rather... creative strategy. They placed all sorts of calming charms on the boat, and moved as slowly as they could, hoping to avoid disturbing the hydra altogether."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Elizabeth said.

"Don't worry, it didn't get them all the way through. They got there all right, but either the charm failed or they actually hit the hydra, because it attacked them when they were heading back. It destroyed their boat. So they distracted it with Conjunctivitis curses and went underwater with bubble-head charms—like I did. But since both of them could swim, they got back much faster."

"I've already heard about the crocodile. Why did you choose that, of all things?"

He shrugged. "Seemed a good idea at the time. I guess it was."

Since it probably saved her life, Elizabeth couldn't disagree. "So how did Beauxbatons do?"

"Thirty-eight out of fifty. This time, Klausberg was the major penalizer. Gave them three."

"Three?" Elizabeth was incredulous. "And the rest?"

"Nine from their headmistress. Eight from McGonagall, nine from my uncle, and eight from Patil."

"You think having your uncle on the panel will help us?"

"Doubtful, especially in our case," he said. "Compared to Uncle Percy, my father can be considered the Malfoys' friend."

Silence descended between them. After a while, Weasley broke it. "If anyone on the panel is

predisposed towards us, it's McGonagall."

She wanted to ask about the points they got, but a completely different question came out of her mouth. "Why does your father hate my father—and me?"

He stared at her for a long time. "I don't really know," he finally said. "My parents never talk about their school years."

"Neither does my father."

"You think Professor Potter would know about it?"

"Probably. But will he tell us?"

"I don't know."

"So," Elizabeth asked, "how far behind are we?"

"Thirty out of fifty," Mike replied. "Klausberg gave us one, McGonagall eight, Patil seven, and both my uncle and Delacour six."

She looked at him.

He shrugged. "Told you my uncle wouldn't favor us."

"I want to win this tournament, Weasley."

"So do I. They told us we'll need the pole for the next task, and I have no clue what it's for."

"Well, we'd better figure it out."

"I know." He got up. "See you later, Elizabeth."

"See you later, Michael."

Only later did it occur to her that this was the first time they called each other by their first names.


	13. Potter's Warning

**Chapter 13. Potter's warning.**

"Mike, what happened to you?" Dave asked.

"Nothing," he replied. The truth was, he couldn't stop thinking about yesterday. And it wasn't the actual task he was thinking about.

Was his father right about the Malfoys being evil? He had always believed him, and his mother, who frequently argued with his father on other matters, was usually silent on this one.

An owl dropped a letter in front of him. He opened it. It was short, straight, and to the point.

_Please come to my office this afternoon._

_-Professor Harry Potter._

He glanced across the hall. At the Slytherin table, Elizabeth was opening an identical letter.

"I wonder what Potter might want," he muttered.

"What?" Kate sat down next to them.

"Where have you been?" Dave asked.

"Good morning to you, too," she said. "Pass the coffee, will you?"

Mike handed her the coffee pot. He then showed her the letter.

"What could he want? Elizabeth got one too." He gestured towards the Slytherin table.

Dave looked at him. "Since when do you call Malfoy _Elizabeth_?"

"Since last night," he replied.

"What?"

"Last night?"

"I went to the hospital wing to see her," he said. "We... talked."

"Talked?" Dave asked.

"Talked," Mike confirmed. "Hey, what are you—"

"Careful... you might end up with a Slytherin girlfriend."

"Dave, shut up," Kate said.

Mike finished his breakfast and got up. "See you later, guys," he said. "I've got to do my Transfiguration homework."

"Don't you think Professor Greengrass will cut you some slack—considering what you pulled off yesterday?"

"When has Greengrass ever cut anyone any slack?" Mike replied. "Especially a Gryffindor?" He left.

He didn't finish his homework before lunch, but after eating, he decided to go and see Potter instead.

The Defense classroom was empty. He knocked on the office door.

"Come in," Potter said.

Elizabeth was already there. "Took you long enough, Weasley," she said, but here was no malice in her voice.

Potter stood up from his desk, and paced the room for a few seconds. Then he smiled.

"First, I believe congratulations are in order," he said. "If it was up to me, you would be in first place, rather than third." He paused and gave a short laugh. "Perhaps that's why it's not up to me." Mike and Elizabeth both laughed.

"Right," Potter continued. "One hundred and fifty house points to both Gryffindor and Slytherin," he said. Mike gasped. Only a week ago, Potter had taken a hundred points from him. This recouped everything.

Potter took the pole from Elizabeth's hand. "Good workmanship," he pronounced. Then, he twisted the pole at both ends, and it came apart in the middle. He handed one of the resulting short staffs to each of them.

"You've got past the first task. Don't get cocky. The second task is usually the hardest—despite, or perhaps because of, the amount of time you have to prepare. And you _will_ need to prepare," he finished.

"I am not allowed to tell you what you'll need to do. But you will not get anything done without the staff—or rather, staffs." He took the sticks from them, put their ends together, twisted... and the staff was whole again.

Potter separated the pieces once more, handed each of them one, and resumed, "Besides the ability I've just demonstrated, the staff is exactly what it looks like—a solid wooden pole. No hidden spaces, no messages. And that is all the information I can give you."

"The second task will take place on Saturday, February twenty-first, at ten in the evening. But I suggest you get cracking on it as soon as possible, especially considering the distraction you will have at Christmas."

"Distraction, sir?"

"The Yule Ball, Mr. Weasley. As champions, you are required to attend; in fact, you will be opening the dance. You both know how to dance?"

"Yes," Elizabeth announced. Mike nodded.

"Good. You're in a much better position than I was in my tournament. Good luck—in figuring out the second task, and in finding dance partners," he finished, dismissing them.

Outside the office, Mike looked at Elizabeth. "What?" she asked.

"The Yule Ball."

Elizabeth nodded. "You know, I think the Ball during the last tournament was my parents' first date."

"Really?" Mike asked. "My parents don't like to talk about that—but as I said, they don't like to talk about anything concerning their school years."

Elizabeth shrugged. "I'll see you later," she said.

"Bye."


	14. In Trouble Again

**Chapter 14. In trouble again.**

Nadine ran up to Elizabeth outside the Slytherin common room. "Don't go in there," she warned.

"What?"

"You know about the Yule Ball, don't you?"

"Of course. Potter told us."

"Us?"

"Me and Michael."

"Weasley?"

"Yes."

"Since when do you call him _Michael_?"

"Since last night." Seeing Nadine's expression, she frowned. "Things can change," she said simply.

"Be careful, Liz."

"Of course. Anyway, why shouldn't I go into the common room?"

"Oh. Goyle and Nott broke up."

"What?!"

"Calm down. It happened yesterday."

"Why?"

"Goyle made a bet on the task with Sandra Murphy from Hufflepuff. He bet Beauxbatons would win. She thought Durmstrang would."

Elizabeth laughed. "I'm shocked no one wagered on us."

"You yourself said you would lose," Nadine pointed out.

"So what does this have to do with Nott?"

"I'm getting there. So Goyle went to pay his wager to Murphy. Nott saw them together and drew the wrong conclusion."

"And no one thought to enlighten them?"

"Of course not. We want to stop losing house points when they snog in classes."

"But why shouldn't I go in?"

"Goyle has been asking every girl in fourth year and above to go to the Ball with him."

"Including you?"

Nadine nodded. "I turned him down," she said.

"Well, I can—" But just then the door opened and Goyle stepped out.

"Malfoy," he said. "I was hoping to see you. I wanted—"

"No, Goyle, I will not go to the Yule Ball with you!"

"But why not? You can't be already going with someone else—"

"You don't know that! And it's none of your business, anyway!"

"Come on, Malfoy. Why—"

"No, and I don't want to talk to you either! Go away!"

"Malfoy—"

Elizabeth had enough. "Wait, no!" Nadine screamed as she watched her friend draw her wand. Elizabeth ignored her, and the next moment, there was a loud bang, followed by a shriek from Goyle, and Goyle's skin turned green with black splotches.

"Oot id ou doo too ee?" came out of Goyle's mouth. He stuck out his tongue, which was at least a foot and a half long.

"Oops," Elizabeth said. Despite having botched the spell, she had difficulty suppressing her laughter.

"What's going on here?" a very familiar voice asked.

"Oh, no…" Elizabeth muttered.

"I asked a question, Miss Zabini," Professor Potter said. "What happened?"

He glanced at Goyle. "I see," he said. He drew his wand and restored Goyle back to normal. "It was her!" the boy shouted, pointing at Elizabeth. "Just 'cause I asked her to the Ball!" Then he ran.

"I see," Potter repeated. "Miss Malfoy, follow me."

He led her into his office. She tried to speak up, but Potter stopped her.

"I don't want to hear it, Miss Malfoy. I have a fair idea what Mr. Goyle's been doing, and I certainly don't approve of it, but you attacked a fellow student with a potentially fatal spell. Even many fully trained wizards are reluctant to use human transfiguration, because it is so dangerous—even when done right. And it didn't escape my notice that Transfiguration is not exactly your best subject. Anger is a powerful weapon, but a very poor guide. I hope you don't have to learn that lesson the way I did. You were _not_ in a situation where you couldn't afford a few seconds to think of a more appropriate spell. You will receive a week's worth of detention, and I will be writing to your father. You are dismissed, Miss Malfoy."

Elizabeth sighed and left the office. The worst part about it was that nothing that Potter had said was wrong, and none of it was stuff she hadn't known before. In other words, she had no excuse.


	15. Solutions

**Chapter 15. Solutions.**

The Gryffindor common room was abuzz with discussion, most of it concerning the Yule Ball. Among the few who weren't participating were Mike and Kate. Mike had decided to do some initial work preparing for the second task. He would have liked Elizabeth's input, but Elizabeth had detention for the entire week—for attempting to turn Goyle into a frog, of all of things. Nadine Zabini had provided a _very_ graphic description of what Goyle had looked like. Both of them thought it funny. "You'll need to work on your transfiguration, Elizabeth," Mike said when he had stopped laughing. Elizabeth huffed. "I got detention for a week! That's _not_ funny!" she yelled at them.

When he'd told her about trying to figure out the next task, she said, "Go ahead. Potter said it was just a piece of wood, and I'm inclined to agree." So here they were. So far, neither he nor Kate saw anything to indicate that Elizabeth was wrong.

"What about the fact that it separates?" Kate suggested. "Could that be a clue?"

"Anything _could_ be a clue. But what _is_?" He leaned back. "I felt better going into the first task. At least I knew we weren't supposed to know what we'd face."

"There's ages to go yet. You'll figure it out."

Mike wasn't so sure, and wanted to say so, but then Dave walked in.

"You look happy," Mike said.

"I just asked Laura to go to the Ball with me."

"And?" Mike prompted.

"And she said yes!"

"Congratulations," Kate said, not sounding very enthusiastic.

"Something wrong, Kate?"

"Everyone's talking about the stupid Ball!" she said. "Even you two!"

"Hey, I didn't bring it up," Mike protested.

"Sorry. But… no, you wouldn't understand."

"Try us," Dave suggested.

"Okay. Three boys—two of whom I don't even know—asked me to the Ball today."

"You turned them all down? Why?"

"Because when I asked them why they waned to go with me, they all gave the same answer."

"Which was?"

"You're pretty."

"Well, Kate, it's not that they're wrong," Mike said.

"That's not the point. I don't want to go with someone who only thinks I'm pretty."

"Well, there's a solution to that."

"Yeah?"

"You can go with me," Mike said.

"Mike, I thought we agreed in our first year that we should never date each other."

"Who said anything about dating? We can go as friends. Or is there someone in particular you'd like to go with?" he asked. "In which case, sorry."

"No… not really," she replied.

"Same here… at least, not since I broke up with Megan."

"I warned you about her, remember," Kate smiled.

"I remember. I should have listened. So you'd like to go with someone who knows you, someone who won't just take you because you're pretty, and someone who isn't just asking you to make someone else jealous."

"How did you know—" Kate looked surprised.

"Was Goyle one of the three?"

"Yes. How—"

"I figured once he ran out of Slytherin girls to ask, he'd move on to the other houses." He looked at Kate. "You didn't try to turn him into a frog, did you?"

"NO… Why?"

"That's how Elizabeth got detention. I wish I'd seen it." He gave them Zabini's description of the botched spell's effect on Goyle, which gave them a good laugh.

"So how about it, Kate? It's not like I want to go with someone I don't know either. And we can have a good time. As friends," he quickly added, seeing Kate blush.

"All right," she said. "Why not?"

"Thanks, Kate," Mike said. "You're a lifesaver."

"So we settled that issue." She shrugged. "We're no closer to figuring out anything about this staff."

"What's it supposed to be?" Dave inspected the stick, frowning.

"Apparently, the key to the second task. If only I knew how to figure it out."

Dave shook his head. "Weird. I wish I could help. But we don't even know what branch of magic is involved."

"Well, it's still more than two months away. We have time."

"Right. Goodnight, Kate."

"Goodnight," she said, heading up to the girls' dormitories.

Mike also headed off to bed. At least the problem of finding a date for the Ball was solved. After the disaster with Megan, he was wary of dating girls he didn't know. With that thought, he drifted off to sleep.


	16. Glimpse of the Past

**Chapter 16. Glimpse of the past.**

Elizabeth was spending her detentions organizing books. The first four days were spent in the Hogwarts' main library, but today, Potter left her in his office, and told her to organize his private bookcase. That didn't look like much, until she realized that Potter used a classification system completely different from the standardly accepted one. The books were sorted fist by era in which they were published, each era's boundary marked by significant events. Some events were from the Muggle world, and Elizabeth, for the first time, regretted not knowing more about Muggles. Within each era, books were sorted alphabetically by author, irrespective of what language they were in. Since she didn't know any foreign languages besides French, that wasn't easy either. Finally, some of the books were really, really heavy, and, as usual with Potter's detentions, she wasn't allowed to use magic.

The door suddenly screeched open. Elizabeth turned and gasped in surprise. It was Michael Weasley."

"Michael!" she practically yelled. "What're you doing here?"

"I wanted to see Potter," he said. "Aren't you supposed to be in detention?"

"This _is_ my detention, Weasley," she said angrily. "Sorting Potter's books. According to his bizarre system." She thrust the small roll of parchment—the details of the system—at him.

He opened it, read a few lines. He gave a small laugh.

"What's so funny?"

"First of all, it's not Potter's system. This is known as the Clather-Bodd Extensible system, and it's been in use, with only slight modifications, since the late eighteenth century."

"Where? In the libraries of insane asylums?"

"No. Many wizards with private collections use it. Including," he said significantly, "my mother."

"You know about it?"

"It's not that hard once you get the hang of it. Back in my second year, I got tired of always asking my mother to find books for me… so I learned it."

"This isn't a joke, Weasley? Because I have no idea—"

"It's not a joke. Here, let me help you." He approached and began shelving the books. Fifteen seconds of watching him work was enough to dispel Elizabeth's doubts. Unlike her, Michael didn't have to think for a while about where each book would have to be placed. In fact, he didn't seem to need to think at all.

"My mother is adamant that we place books in the correct order. 'If you don't know where it goes, leave it off the shelf'," he said as he worked. "Now, Potter uses a somewhat different era distribution to my mother, so I have to work at it a bit. If it was _her_ distribution, I could do it with my eyes closed."

With Michael's help—well, with him doing most of the work, if she had to be honest—they finished almost an hour ahead of schedule. "Ugh," she said, as the last book was put in its place.

"Shouldn't _I_ be saying that?" Michael asked.

Elizabeth grunted. "Try doing that five nights in a row," she said.

"So, do you have a date for the Yule Ball?"

"Yes, Weasley, I do. What? You were hoping to go with me?"

"No, just curious. I've got a date too. Who're you going with?"

"You expect me to just tell you? I like surprises."

"Come on, Elizabeth."

"Okay. He's in Slytherin. And that's all you're going to get. Who're _you_ going with?"

Michael grinned. "She's in Gryffindor."

"Touche. So what did you want to ask Potter about?"

"Just some stuff about the essay he assigned us… and maybe to ask him some things about his

time at school."

Elizabeth was apparently no longer listening. Instead, she was standing behind Potter's desk. "Michael, take a look at this!" she said.

"What?" He went over to her. Elizabeth pointed out one of the three photos on the professor's desk.

"Yeah, what—" Michael stopped as he saw the photo. Sure, it was from a long time ago, but there was no doubt about it. The photo showed the younger versions of his parents with Professor Potter.

"When was this?" Elizabeth asked.

"I'm not sure. I'd say… their fifth or sixth year… which would put it twenty-three or twenty-four years ago."

"Wonder who took the picture. It looks really good."

Michael nodded. "My parents don't have any photos from their school years around our house," he said.

"Here, look at this." Elizabeth pointed at the second photo.

It was a wedding picture. Potter was in magnificent dress robes, and had obviously made a titanic but futile effort to tame his hair. The bride was practically beaming happiness, dressed in a flowing white dress, as (thanks to the photographer's skill in capturing the moment) Potter was slipping the ring on her finger. She was slender, had a freckled face, and long, straight red hair. "She looks like you," Elizabeth said.

Michael looked at the photo. "What? No way!"

"Something wrong?"

"No… that's Aunt Ginny. We have lots of pictures of her."

"Aunt Ginny?" Elizabeth prompted.

"My dad's little sister." He frowned. "She died during the war."

"Potter said something once, in fencing club. I asked him if anyone had ever beaten him in a fencing tournament. He said two people had. His first wife and my father.

"First wife?"

"Here." She showed him the final picture.

This was taken somewhere in the mountains, in the winter. The photo showed a woman—presumably Potter's second wife—and two small children. The woman had very dark auburn hair and blue eyes.

"They don't look much alike," Elizabeth commented.

"I should have known… at least after that row they nearly had at the lake."

"What was that thing with the spider?" Elizabeth asked.

"My dad's afraid of spiders. Don't know why, he never told me. Not many people know, actually. Obviously, Potter's one of them."

"Oh." Elizabeth nodded. Michael was thinking intensely. "But I don't know why my dad would blame Potter for his sister's death. Look at that—" he pointed at the photo. "They obviously loved each other."

"Speak of the devil," Elizabeth said. Professor Potter walked in. He glanced at the shelf. "All done, Miss Malfoy? Very well. You may go."

She didn't move. "Go on," she said, nudging Michael.

"Professor Potter?" he said.

"What is it, Mr. Weasley? You're not supposed to be here."

"Why didn't you tell me you were married to Aunt Ginny?" he said, his tone almost accusing.

"You never asked," Potter replied. "I suppose your parents didn't tell you."

"No…" he admitted. "Unless you count what my father said to you at the task."

Potter frowned. "I see. Well, I suppose I do owe you the story. And since it involves Miss Malfoy's parents as well, she should probably hear it too. However, I won't have time till after New Year. And this _will_ take some time," he said. "But," he turned to Mike, "no matter what your father may have told you, I did love your aunt. I loved her very much." Elizabeth could see that whatever Potter was remembering, it was painful for him.

"Goodnight, Miss Malfoy," he said. "And, Mr. Weasley?"

Michael looked at him.

"You're not supposed to help a fellow student in detention. Twenty points from Gryffindor."


	17. The Champions' Dates

**Chapter 17. The Champions' Dates.**

A few boys from other houses were standing near the portrait of the Fat Lady, looking nervous. Mike had always wondered if the girls _really_ needed this long to get dressed, or if they just liked to keep them waiting. He wished Dave was there, but he had left to pick up Laura.

The door opened, and several girls stepped out to meet their dates. Kate was among them. She wore navy blue robes so long that they flowed along the floor behind her. Mike smiled, taking her hand.

"You look fantastic," he said. And she did. Kate was often seen as a tomboy by other Gryffindor girls, probably because she didn't have any close girlfriends, but she was actually very pretty.

Mike did remember their pact, made in their first year, to never date each other. And he wasn't interested in Kate that way. They were going as friends. Of course, he mused, the Hogwarts rumor mill would ignore that, but that would happen no matter who he took.

"What are you thinking?" Kate asked.

"Oh, nothing much. Just that tomorrow, the school will be abuzz with gossip."

"Do you care?"

"No." He shrugged. "Elizabeth might—about _her_ date, of course."

"Who's she going with?"

"Some Slytherin bloke," he said. "She wouldn't tell me who."

"Mike! Kate!" Dave shouted. They walked over. He held Laura's arm in his.

"Hello, guys," Laura said. "You look great, Kate."

"Hey, what about me?" Mike asked.

"Oh, you don't look so bad, yourself," Laura agreed. "At least your hair looks brushed. Unlike someone I could name."

Dave gasped at her. "You—"

"I'm kidding," she laughed. To prove that she was, she kissed Dave on the cheek.

"Come on, Kate," Mike said, leading her away. "Let's leave these two lovebirds. We're going to have to open the dance."

Mike and Kate headed downstairs to where the champions had gathered just outside the Great Hall. "Not many Muggles have seen the halls of Hogwarts," Mike heard Professor Potter say. He turned. The Defense teacher was there, arm around his wife. The woman was looking around curiously. Mike could hardly blame her, considering his own amazement the first time he saw the castle.

"Good evening, Mr. Weasley. Miss Longbottom."

"Good evening, Professor."

"I'm Stephanie Potter," his wife said.

Mike shook her hand. "Pleased to meet you."

"So this is the Hogwarts champion," she said to her husband.

"Half the championship team," Potter corrected. "And here comes the other half!" he announced.

Mike turned. Elizabeth Malfoy was walking hand in hand with a tall, long-haired Slytherin boy. Mike recognized him as Alan Montague, the Keeper for the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"Good evening, Miss Malfoy," Potter said. "Mr. Montague."

"Good evening, Professor," Elizabeth said. "Mrs. Potter."

"What is she doing here?" Montague demanded.

"Will you stop it!" Elizabeth chided him. Mike at her looked in surprise.

"To answer your question, Mr. Montague, teachers are allowed to bring guests. And," he continued, anticipating Mike and Elizabeth's question, "there's nothing in the rules that says guests have to be wizards."

"What are we waiting for, Professor?"

"The remaining champions." Mike looked around. Fatima Dubois was with a Ravenclaw boy he didn't know. He couldn't believe that Nathan Thomas had asked Veronique Rossi, the other Beauxbatons champion, but he was there. Leonid Krum was with a Durmstrang girl. Boris, however, still hadn't shown up.

"Well, there's something for the gossip queens," Elizabeth said, glancing across the room.

Mike followed her gaze and had to agree. Boris Krum was approaching, escorting... Patricia Nott.

"Poor Goyle," Montague commented.

"Follow me," Professor Potter said after greeting the late-coming couple.

Mike took Kate's arm and followed Elizabeth into the Great Hall.


	18. The Surprise Ball

**Chapter 18. The Surprise Ball.**

Several dances into the evening, Elizabeth got bored. She had agreed to go with Montague so that every boy in Slytherin would stop asking her. She had had no idea at the time that Montague couldn't shut up.

Nadine was no help. She had no date of her own; Elizabeth wasn't even sure if she could dance. With the way Nadine always scoffed at the whole gala surrounding the dance, and never got into any discussions about it, Elizabeth was a bit surprised that she'd showed up at all.

Montague left to dance with someone else, and she spotted Michael heading to the table to get something to drink. On his way, he passed by Nadine. Elizabeth blinked. Nadine calmly extended her foot and tripped Michael. Then she spilled her punch over him.

Michael rolled and jumped up to his feet, wand drawn.

"What the hell was that?" he shouted.

"Is there a problem, Miss Zabini?" Professor Potter approached.

Elizabeth had to do something before a fight erupted and Potter docked twenty points from Slytherin. It wouldn't even be much consolation that he'd dock points from Gryffindor as well. She stepped up.

"_Scourgify_," she said, cleaning up Michael's robes. "Dance with me, Weasley," she demanded.

He blinked, and she took his arm and dragged him out onto the dance floor. He had no choice but to take her and dance.

_He's a good dancer,_ she thought.

"What was that for?" he asked. "Not that I'm complaining."

"What's wrong with your date? she asked.

"Nothing is wrong with Kate!" he protested.

"So why aren't you with her?"

"Promise to keep quiet?"'

"Uhm..."

"Not a word to anyone. Especially Zabini."

"Uhm..."

"If you don't promise, I can't tell."

"Fine. I will not tell anyone."

He leaned in and whispered in her ear. "Kate can't dance."

"Is that it?"

"She's feeling bad about it—"

"Oh, no..." Elizabeth whispered, cutting him off.

"What?"

"Turn around."

He did. "Whoa... your father... and Aunt Gabrielle?"

"Not afraid, Weasley?"

"Of what?"

"My father. When he sees us—"

"Who's the scared one, Malfoy? We Gryffindors are famous for our courage. Maybe I could lend you some."

"I am not afraid of my father, Weasley."

He let go of her and stepped back. "Prove it," he said.

"You're the one who's going to get hurt," she replied. Then she stepped forward, placed her hand on his shoulder, and started dancing again.

He smiled again. "I still didn't get an answer. Why did you demand that I dance with you in the first place?"

"I was saving Nadine from a Potter detention," she replied. He laughed. Potter detentions tended to be painful and memorable.

"Potter!" her father said, not quite shouting, but coming close. "Get over here!"

She watched Potter stride up to him. "Fancy seeing you here, Draco. I don't think you've seen my wife in a—"

"Potter, I want you to do something about that." He pointed at them.

"He won't do anything," Michael said.

"About what?" Potter asked mildly.

"That's my daughter!"

"Weasley, you're in—"

"Keep dancing," Michael said.

_Oh. Great. My father is going to kill him and I'll have to do this tournament alone._

"I am quite aware of that, Draco, being her teacher."

"Dancing with a Weasley!"

"Is that a crime?"

"He thinks it should be," Elizabeth muttered.

"Potter, wouldn't you be disgusted if that was _your _daughter out there?"

"Considering that my oldest daughter is ten, yes, I would be. Elizabeth is seventeen, Draco."

"I think—"

"_I_ think your date is getting lonely. Maybe you should rejoin her. Should I even ask how this happened?"

"Nothing's happened yet. Nothing is going to happen. Anyway, can we talk later? In private?"

Elizabeth saw Potter turn grim.

"Not that again..."

"Yes, Potter, _that_. You can't—"

"Like you said, Draco," Potter said in resignation. "_In private_."

"What do you think that was about?"

"No idea."

"Fuck you, Longbottom!" a voice said heatedly.

"That's Nadine!" Elizabeth said.

They stopped dancing and headed towards the arguing girls.

"I have no idea why—"

"Kate?" Michael asked. "What did she do?"

"Oh, I see," Nadine smirked. "What did _I_ do? 'Cause Gryffindors are all saints who can do no wrong, right?"

Elizabeth grabbed her best friend and dragged her away. Michael stared for a moment as she pulled her towards the exit and out of the hall, then returned his attention to Kate, who had tears rolling down her cheeks, and led her away.

Furious, Elizabeth said nothing until they reached the Slytherin dorms.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded. "First you trip Weasley, then you yell at Longbottom—"

"And you have a problem with either of those things? You never have before before!"

"That's not the point. The point is, I had to pull your ass out of the fire by dancing with Weasley!"

"You looked like you enjoyed it!"

"That's not the point, either. I—"

"I think it is! You're just mad I interrupted your little—"

"Oh, when did you become so stupid, Zabini?"

"You're calling me stupid?"

"Attacking Michael Weasley is stupid. You didn't even have your wand. That's—"

"And you did? Why—"

"Potter advised—"

"Do you always listen to Potter? If you do, how did you manage to get so many detentions from him? Perfect Potter—"

"Shut up! I don't know why you hate Potter, and I don't care! At least he's a competent teacher. Unlike Greengrass, who's supposed to be our head of house."

"Go back to the stupid Ball, Malfoy! Go back to Weasley!"

"Fine!" She got up. "If you won't explain what's wrong, don't expect me to help!" She slammed the door on her way out. She wished she had controlled her temper, but she also wished Nadine told her, plainly, what was wrong. And insinuating she liked Weasley in that way! The nerve of her! Especially since it couldn't be further from the truth.


	19. A Revelation

**Chapter 19. A Revelation.**

Mike let Kate gather herself, carefully wiping away her tears with a handkerchief. A few girls asked him to dance, but he declined, preferring to stick by his friend. "Kate," he said, "I promised you'd have a good time. Are you going to make me break my promise?"

"You can't keep it. Not anymore."

"Here," Mike said, placing a cup of steaming hot chocolate in front of her. Kate drank it silently, but by the time she'd finished it, she already looked less grim, as Mike had known she would. Kate liked chocolate in all forms, and everyone in the school knew it.

"Thanks, Mike."

"What are friends for?" he replied, then, looking up, "Would you look at that..."

Kate turned to see what he was pointing at. David Jordan and Laura Whittle were in the middle of the dance floor, kissing. At the sight, Kate emerged into sobs again.

Mike had had enough. He took Kate by the hand and led her to the seventh floor, to the Room of Requirement.

The door opened, revealing a huge bed, covered with silk pillows. The bed had two people on it, both of them very naked: Robert Goyle and Patricia Nott.

This was why Mike liked being a prefect. "Ten points from Slytherin!" he shouted. "Each! Get out! We need this room for more important things than shagging!" He brandished his wand. Goyle and Nott, looking fearful, hastily gathered their clothes and complied.

"Disgusting," Mike commented once the door closed behind them. The view twisted, and transformed into a replica of his parents' living room. Mike sighed in relief.

Kate managed a laugh. "Brilliant, Mike! That'll strain their brains for a month. And I thought teenage boys didn't think there _were_ more important things than shagging."

"Ninety percent of the time, we don't," Mike replied. "But that's okay. We only spend ten percent of our time in your company."

"Okay, Mike. Enough with the jokes."

"Agreed," Mike said. Katherine settled into a cozy armchair by the fire, and Mike conjured up another cup of hot chocolate for her. She drank in silence. Mike said nothing.

Kate was on her third cup of chocolate before she spoke. "Mike, have you ever considered me as a... romantic interest?"

"Kate?" Mike looked at her. "Where did that come from?"

"Mike, just tell me. Please? Did you ever—"

"Think of you as girlfriend material?" Mike supplied.

"Well... yes."

Mike took her hand. "Kate, you're a great person. I'm sure you can be a wonderful girlfriend... just not for me. I certainly love you, Kate... but I can't see myself _in love_ with you. Why do you ask? I thought we—"

Kate didn't answer. "What about Dave?"

Mike laughed. "Dave has been wrapped up in Laura since second year. He's even less likely to—"

"Are you sure?"

"Didn't you see them kiss today?"

"You kissed Megan. And—"

"Not in front of the whole school. I wouldn't do that unless I was serious, and I don't think Dave would either. But I still don't understand why you're asking this. You don't... uhm, fancy one of us, do you?"

"No," Kate said. "I was afraid you or Dave did. Because I couldn't return these feelings, and I would have to break your heart."

"Kate, you are a very dear friend," Mike said. "Do you _want_ to like one of us? You shouldn't. Someday, you'll meet that special guy, and—"

"No," Kate categorically stated. "I won't."

"Why not, Kate? You think—"

"I won't meet a special _guy_," Kate said. "Mike... I'm a lesbian."


	20. The End of the Ball

**Chapter 20. The End of the Ball.**

When Elizabeth returned to the Great Hall, she was disappointed to see that Michael wasn't there. Neither was Kate Longbottom, she noted. She spotted Goyle's date, Sandra Murphy, dancing with Evan Thomas. They seemed to be enjoying themselves. There was no sign of Goyle. Her father had left as well, although Potter was still there.

She heard a loud crash at the entrance, as Robert Goyle and Patricia Nott stumbled in. She blinked, wondering what had happened to make them both look like they had just been fighting, and both lost.

"Malfoy!" Goyle shouted.

"What do you want?" Elizabeth asked, mostly out of curiosity. The Ball was getting really boring, and this was something unusual.

"Not here." Nott gestured towards Potter, who was looking in their direction.

"Sure." She stepped out of the Great Hall. "What the hell happened to you two? Fighting?"

"Weasley," Goyle replied.

"He beat you up?" Elizabeth stared. This was hard to believe, especially since Goyle was much larger than Weasley. Nor did she see any possible reason Michael would do such a thing.

"He kicked us out of the Room of Requirement," Nott said. "And he took twenty points from Slytherin. That puts us behind!"

Elizabeth thought for a moment before keeling over. "And what," she said, giggling, "may I ask, were you two _doing_ in the Room of Requirement?"

Both Nott and Goyle blushed red. "I see," Elizabeth said. "Next time, don't use the place everyone knows about," she suggested.

"Where else are we meant to go?" Goyle asked. Nott slapped him.

"If I tell you, everyone _will_ know about it, and then _I_ won't have a place to use," she replied and left that standing. _How did I miss the Goyle-Nott reunion, _she thought. _Oh, well. But if they start snogging in class again, there's no chance of Slytherin winning the cup._ She sighed. The Ball had turned out to be one, big, tedious chore... _well, except for that brief period of dancing with Michael_, she amended.

"Can't you do something?" Nott demanded.

"What?"

"Take points off some Gryffindor, to make us even," Goyle said.

Elizabeth hesitated. "You won't do it?" Nott asked. "Oh. It's because you like Weasley..."

"I do not—"

"I saw you two together. You—"

"Shut up, Nott." She reached for her wand.

"Malfoy?" Montague approached her. "It's the last dance of the night."

"Excuse me," she told Nott. She didn't really want to dance anymore, but it was better than continuing the argument. _Might as well get this over with._ Montague led her onto the floor.

Elizabeth danced absentmindedly. "Malfoy?" Montague asked, as the dance was closing. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied. "I just need a breath of fresh air."

"You're going outside? In this weather?"

"I am not asking you to come with me. In fact, I'd rather you didn't," she snapped back. She didn't care about Montague in the first place.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Figure it out," she said, pulling on her cloak. Montague approached, but she drew her wand. "Don't follow me." Montague, obviously realizing that he would be outmatched in a duel, retreated. She was going to take a walk outside to clear hear head, and then she was going to find Michael.


	21. The Mystery Deepens

**Chapter 21. The Mystery Deepens.**

Mike stared at Kate. She looked back, her large eyes open in terror. "You hate me, now," she whispered. "Don't you?"

_Oh, no_, Mike thought. "I said you were a very dear friend. I meant it. I will stand by you." He paused. "It's Zabini, isn't it?"

Kate nodded, shaking. "She hates me—"

"I doubt it," Mike said, realizing something. A lot of things made sense now.

"I don't think she's a lesbian," Kate said.

"Kate, don't worry. It'll be okay." He gave her a hug. "You're still our Kate."

"Thanks, Mike. You won't try to—"

"Set you up? You know I don't like matchmaking schemes. They don't work."

"I know. I'll have to do this on my own."

"I'll help you in any way I can." He paused, but she didn't respond. "Who else knows?"

Kate still held on, shaking. "No one?" Mike asked.

Kate nodded. "I was so afraid..."

"It'll be all right, Kate." He paused for a moment. "You might want to talk to my mother."

"Why?"

"She used to do counseling for families of Muggle-borns who had troubles with the transition," Mike said. "Sometimes these kids became depressed when their families didn't accept them for what they were. I've met some of them. I don't want that to happen to you."

Kate looked at him. "I—"

"Think about it. No one will _make_ you do anything. But we can help. You aren't alone."

"But in the end, it's my decision? Isn't it?"

"It always is. For all of us." For the first time since Mike threw Goyle and Nott out, Kate smiled. "Where would I be without you?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said. "_I'd_ have one good friend less without you. Do you want to go back to the dance?"

"No," Kate said. "I'm tired. Besides, you know I can't dance."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could have taught you."

"Embarrassed," she said. They approached the Fat Lady.

"Goodnight, Kate. Rest well." He hugged her again. "I'm with you. No matter what."

"Thanks. You're not going in?" she asked.

"I want a breath of fresh air," he said. He patted her on the shoulder. "Goodnight, Kate."

"Goodnight, Mike," she said, and headed into the common room. Mike went back downstairs. He pulled on his cloak before stepping outside. It was freezing, but he didn't care. He liked to walk around.

He didn't think he could convince Kate, and now certainly wasn't the time, but he thought Zabini _did_ like Kate. Her hostility towards him at the Ball, going so far as to trip him, bore all the classic marks of jealousy.

He was consumed by his thoughts when he bumped into another person. "Watch where you're going!" said a female voice.

Mike recognized it. "Elizabeth!"

"I was just looking for you," she said.

Mike smiled. "Well, you found me."

"Why did you leave the Ball?"

"Kate was upset. I had to comfort her."

"Comfort?" Elizabeth suddenly demanded.

"After _your_ friend upset her. She needed help."

"Hey, I tried to get Nadine to tell me why she did it, but she wouldn't talk."

"Aren't you supposed to be friends?"

Elizabeth sighed. "She wouldn't tell me, but I know something is bothering her."

"I have an idea, but it's not my secret to reveal," Mike said. "Try to find out."

"In case you were wondering, Weasley, she doesn't like you. Certainly not in that way."

"Good. I don't fancy her either."

They had walked back into the castle. Passing by Potter's classroom, they heard voices from it.

"She needs to know, Draco," Potter said. "You can't—"

"She's my daughter, Potter! What if—"

"What if Pansy hadn't died? What if Ginny hadn't died? What if Tom Riddle never became Voldemort? You can play that game forever; it won't change the facts."

"I placed her in this position. I could have done something else."

"We all could have." Potter sighed. "Sometimes I wonder if I was the lucky one."

"What?"

"Ginny and I were trying to have a child. What if we had?"

"Oh, now who's playing the what if game?"

"Sorry. But there are other people who know, and there are many more who don't, but who know where to look to find out. We had to testify, remember? These protocols are somewhere in the Ministry. The secrecy statute on them is only fifteen years—and you know how heavily I had to lobby for even that much."

"As I recall, you had to invoke about a dozen obscure laws dating back to the time of Merlin," Malfoy said. "They just had to throw so much in your way."

"You know why, Draco."

"Of course. Money. A great deal of it. The owls I get sometimes..."

"Draco, it will be better if she is prepared. I hated it when important information was withheld from me. I don't want to subject her to that."

Malfoy sighed. "Just don't do anything stupid, Potter."

"You know me, Draco."

"I know you too well. That's why I'm worried," Malfoy said. "What's that?"

"Run!" Mike whispered to Elizabeth. She didn't need to be told. Before Malfoy got to the door, they were on the next floor, and continued their flight.

They stopped after exhausting themselves.

"I don't think they knew who we were," Mike said.

"Potter probably suspects us," Elizabeth replied. "But he won't give us a detention without proof."

"That's good. What do you think that was about?"

"No idea. I think Potter will tell us—isn't that what they agreed on?"

"He'll tell _you_. What do I have to do with any of it... oh, crap," he said.

"What?"

"Look up."

Elizabeth did. They were standing under mistletoe.

She narrowed her eyes. "Did you arrange this, Weasley?" she demanded.

"No," Mike said.

"Well—"

"Yeah—" They leaned towards each other.

_She smells nice_, Mike thought before their lips met. And then, the kiss deepened.

They pulled back. "Wow," Mike whispered. No kiss had ever felt quite like this one.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and stared at him. She then covered her mouth, and, without a word, ran.

Mike was too stunned to even call after her. _Great_, he thought. _Who else had a Yule Ball that ended this badly?_ He was so tired that he went back to Gryffindor Tower and fell asleep on the couch by the fireplace.


	22. Winter Quidditch

**Chapter 22. Winter Quidditch.**

As usual, Nadine slept late. Elizabeth, however, woke up very early, considering it was the morning after the Ball, and came down to the common room to open her presents. She usually didn't get many. There were four packages this time. A box of sweets from Nadine. She smiled. They would make up quickly enough. A leather sword sheath, green and silver, with several snakes entwined around it, from her father. The sheath, she realized, was tailor-made for the curved sword that Potter said had bonded to her. Potter must have told her father about it, since she'd never mentioned this in her letters, and the sword still sat in Potter's office.

She looked at the remaining two packages. They both appeared to be books. The tag on one said it was from her godfather. She expected this one, although she had never met the man. Her father said it was because he was very busy. Elizabeth wasn't sure whether to believe that. But he had never missed a Christmas or birthday gift, and the gifts were usually interesting. The last package was anonymous. She unwrapped the one from her godfather first.

A book fell out of the wrapping paper. It had a yellow and black cover, and a cartoon image of a man lifting his finger. _Transfiguration for Dummies_, the title read.

"Ha, ha," Elizabeth said to herself. "Very funny, whoever you are. Having a laugh from far away..." She blinked as the book transformed itself, becoming a small box, and a piece of parchment fell to the floor. Elizabeth read it.

_Elizabeth:_

_Sorry about the joke with the book, but I couldn't help myself, after what I heard about Mr. Goyle. This box contains AnywhereString. It's a length of rope that will take up any shape and go anywhere on command. I think you will find it useful. Merry Christmas!_

_-Your loving godfather._

She turned to her last gift. This one was, in fact, a book. The cover had many witches flying on broomsticks and holding Beater bats. She read the title. _They have won: female Beaters, world champions, 1344—2008_.

A note fell out.

_Elizabeth:_

_Maybe this will shut Goyle up, and give you a chance. Anyway, it is an interesting read. Happy Christmas!_

_-Michael_

_And I didn't think to send him a gift,_ she thought. _I've kissed him and—_

_I kissed Weasley. And then ran like a coward_. She really couldn't thing of a good reason why she'd run. She'd liked it. He'd probably liked it too, if 'Wow' meant what she thought it meant.

She left the common room to find Michael. He wasn't at breakfast in the Great Hall, or in the library. A younger Gryffindor told her he wasn't in their common room, either. She was about to give up when she saw him through the window.

It was him, unmistakable because of his Weasley hair. He was flying around the castle, performing aerial stunts.

Elizabeth thought of calling to him, but decided against it. Instead, she went back to the Slytherin common room (Nadine was apparently still sleeping) and got her broomstick, Beater bat, and a pair of Bludgers (her last birthday present from her father), then headed outside.

Flying up, she launched herself towards him. But he failed to notice her, and so she resorted to a more proactive measure.

"Weasley!" she shouted, releasing one of the Bludgers and hitting it towards him. "Duck!"

"What?" Michael looked up to see a Bludger hurling at him. He dodged it.

"Duck!" Elizabeth shouted, sending the other Bludger at him.

He did. "What are you doing?" he shouted.

"Getting your attention!" she replied as the first Bludger returned. "Duck!"

He dived and came back up, placing Elizabeth between himself and the Bludger that had just flown by so that she couldn't hit it his way when it came towards him.

She tried to get into the right position, but he followed her. Elizabeth got frustrated. She'd forgotten how good Michael was.

One of the Bludgers tried to attack her. She sent it away at random, not having time to aim at him.

Then the other Bludger shot towards Michael. He stopped and drew his wand. "_Immobulus!_" he bellowed, freezing the heavy black ball in its tracks.

Elizabeth flew higher. "Do you go _anywhere_ without your wand?"

"Nope," he answered, freezing the other Bludger.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "A habit I got from my parents, I suppose."

"Michael, about last night_—_"

"I'm sorry. I didn't think_—_"

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have run away like that."

"Elizabeth_—_"

"Let's just say it was the mistletoe, and forget it happened," she suggested.

Michael looked reluctant. "I won't forget it," he said. "I don't think you will, either."

"I am not ready for this, Weasley! Can't you_—_"

"Sorry. Like you said, forget it." He changed the subject. "Any insight on the second task?"

"No_—_" She gasped.

"What? You've thought of something?"

"No," she replied. "Just remembered something."

"And?"

"I forgot to buy you a Christmas present," she said. "I'm sorry. The book you got me_—_"

"It's okay. I didn't expect one. I only thought about giving you something the day before. Do you think_—_"

"It'll change Goyle's mind? Nope. That's set in stone."

"Too bad."

"Too bad for the Slytherin team. You should be happy."

"I like challenges. But you already know that. I entered the Tournament."

She nodded. "So what is it about those staffs that makes them the key to the second task?"

"They seem to be nothing special," Michael mused aloud.

"I know. But_—_"

"But what?"

"What do you know about the previous tournaments?"

"How will that help? They won't repeat anything."

"Still..."

"Hey," he suddenly said.

"What?"

"Duck!" he shouted as he deactivated the charm on a Bludger.

Elizabeth avoided it, and hit the ball back at Michael. He sent it back with a spell and then reactivated the second Bludger.

"Hey!" Elizabeth shouted. "That's not fair!"

"A Slytherin wanting to play fair." Michael flew closer. "That's something."

He dodged a Bludger, sent it back, and flew up. Elizabeth gasped as both Bludgers launched themselves at her, gaining speed.

She struck one ball with all her strength, and hit it into the other. The two Bludgers collided with a loud _crunch_.

The recoil, however, threw Elizabeth off her broomstick. She fell into the snow.

"Elizabeth!" Michael yelled in horror. He landed and rushed over to her.

Elizabeth leaped up and pushed Michael, causing him to fall backwards.

"Why you dirty, sneaky_—_" A snowball hit his face.

"You_—_"

"Elizabeth gave an innocent-looking stare. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," Michael said, careful to conceal a flicking wand movement.

A pile of snow appeared over Elizabeth's head and fell on her.

"I'll get you for that, Weasley!" she yelled, climbing out and jumping at him. Before he could react, she knocked the wand of of his hand, and pinned him down. "What now?" she asked as she leaned over him, holding his wrists to the ground.

But he was stronger. His arms broke free of her hold, and she fell on top of him.

He kissed her.

_Hey, this is nice,_ she thought. And before her mind could protest, she kissed him back.

They broke for air. "Michael," she said.

"Hey!" a new voice shouted. "Mike!"

David Jordan appeared over them. He looked intently.

"What were you two doing with each other? Never mind, I don't want to know," he said. "You better come to the common room, Mike. Something has come up."

"Oh, crap," Elizabeth said as Jordan departed.

Michael nodded. "I better hurry. Dave isn't a gossip monger, but as soon as this gets to Kate and Laura, the Hogwarts rumor mill will start."

"You better hurry, Weasley." She moved off him, allowing him to climb to his feet. "See you later."

"See you later, Elizabeth," Michael said, hurrying after his friend. Elizabeth sat for several minutes. Weasley obviously liked her. And she... well, he was attractive, smart, funny... and he'd saved her life in the first task. She just might like him, too. There was just one slight problem with that.

He was a Weasley.


	23. History of War

**Chapter 23. History of War**

Mike usually liked the winter, as long as it wasn't _too_ cold. But this time, the new year began with a sudden drop in temperature, and most students either didn't go to Hogsmeade this weekend, or stayed inside the cafes drinking warm Butterbeer. But Potter had promised he'd start answering some questions about the past, and so Mike and Elizabeth were standing outside, waiting.

"How did you know what to do in the first task?" she asked.

"What?"

"The boat. It wasn't your first time handling a rudder."

"No. My grandparents—on my mother's side—are Muggles. They own a yacht, and I've gone sailing with them every summer. So, yeah, I know how to handle a rudder, sails, and all that. Never thought it'd come in handy here."

"Good morning, Miss Malfoy," Professor Potter said. "Mr. Weasley."

"Professor," Mike said.

They moved down past the ships, until they reached the end of the street. There, in the middle of the road, stood an enormous white slab of marble. Potter stopped next to it.

"Now," he said, "what is the most boring class you have?"

Mike was tempted to joke and say "Defense Against the Dark Arts", but didn't.

"History of Magic, of course," Elizabeth said. Mike nodded in agreement.

"I'm not surprised," Potter said. "Nothing's changed since I was here. Certainly not Professor Binns. However," he continued, raising his finger, "history shouldn't be boring."

"Then why—"

"Because Professor Binns prefers lecturing you on goblin rebellions from centuries ago," Potter said. "He was the same when I went here.

"And that's not why we study history at all. We study it so we can _learn from past mistakes_.

"I won't tell you that there's nothing to be learned from goblin rebellions," Potter continued. "But some events have had _a little_ more impact on our lives than them. Events such as the first and second Voldemort wars.

"And the best way to _learn_ history—and I mean really learn, not memorize—is to recognize how strongly connected things are." He turned to the white slab. "Do you know what this is?"

Both of them shook their heads.

Potter sighed. "It is a memorial to the victims of the Voldemort wars," he said. "All their names are on it."

"But... it's blank," Mike protested.

Potter drew his wand and tapped the block. Immediately, a name appeared, as if engraved.

_Jonathan McKinnon_.

"Ex-Minister of Magic," Potter said. "Voldemort was probably afraid he'd mount an effective opposition."

He tapped the rock again. McKinnon's name disappeared, replaced by two others.

_Fabian Prewett._

_Gideon Prewett._

"Your great-uncles," he told Mike. "Among the first members of the Order of the Phoenix."

Elizabeth glanced at Mike, then sighed. "Probably none of my relatives—"

"You'd be surprised, Miss Malfoy," Potter replied, and tapped the rock again.

_Edward Bones._

_Samantha Parkinson Bones._

Elizabeth gasped. "You can't—"

Potter nodded. "Your great-aunt and uncle. Both are still remembered among the Aurors—even today."

"Aurors?" Elizabeth asked.

Potter smiled. "I told you you'd be surprised."

"Nice to know my family isn't full of Death Eaters."

"I can name only one real Death Eater in your family, Miss Malfoy," Potter said. He tapped the rock again.

_Frank Longbottom._

_Alice Sanders Longbottom._

"Kate's—"

"Grandparents," Potter confirmed. "They weren't killed, but their lives were taken from them. They spent forty years at St. Mungo's, insane, unable to remember who they were."

Both Mike and Elizabeth were horrified. "Now," Potter said, "I might get in trouble for showing you this." He tapped at the rock.

_Gerald McGonagall_.

Mike considered the name. Elizabeth, however, simply gasped. "Professor McGonagall's—"

"Husband," he said.

"Eew!" Elizabeth blurted out. "She's like, what, a hundred?"

"A hundred and eight, actually," Potter said, and grinned. "She was younger back then."

"Did they have any children?" Mike asked.

"Not as far as I know," Potter answered. "Maybe you should ask her yourself."

Elizabeth laughed. Mike shuddered uncomfortably, despite having no intention to ever do as Potter suggested.

He drew their attention to the wall and tapped it again. Two more names appeared.

_James Potter._

_Lily Evans Potter._

The professor did not say anything at this point. Mike understood. There was no point in asking who these people were. It was obvious.

After a while, Potter tapped the block, and the names of his parents faded. "I can tell you very little about these people," he said. "I never knew any of them. My parents and the Longbottoms were the last victims of the first war, and they lost their lives on the same night as I got this scar. October 31st, 1981. That was the end of the first war." He shook. "Now, on the other side of this memorial, we have victims of the second."

He led them around the white slab and tapped it. A name appeared.

_Cedric Diggory_.

"The Champion during the last Tournament?" Mike asked.

"That's right. Voldemort wanted my blood for use in his resurrection potion, but he had no use for Cedric." Potter's eyes grew dark.

_Sirius Black._

"Black?" Elizabeth asked. "My grandmother was a Black..."

"Sirius was her cousin. And my godfather." Potter was now speaking hoarsely. Mike recognized the tone. His parents took it whenever the war came up.

_Albus Dumbledore._

"The previous headmaster of Hogwarts," Potter said. "Killed during my sixth year."

_Susan Bones_.

"Is she related to—" Elizabeth began.

"Yes. Your mother's cousin. She was in my year, in Hufflepuff."

_Charlie Weasley._

"My uncle?" Mike asked. Potter nodded.

_Arthur Weasley._

"A Ministry official acting under the Imperius Curse deactivated wards in the Floo Network," Potter explained. "We were having Christmas dinner when Death Eaters just started coming out of the fireplace, throwing curses." He looked at Mike grimly. "Your father was injured." He shook his head. "I still don't understand why they would do it. All five Death Eaters were killed, and they obviously knew they would be—and they agreed to attack anyway."

_Ginevra Weasley Potter._

"Aunt Ginny," Mike whispered. He noticed a tear streak out of Potter's eye. Their teacher looked at the stone a last time, and tapped it. A new name appeared.

_Pansy Parkinson Malfoy._

Elizabeth shook. For some reason, Mike had the urge to hold her. He remembered how angry Elizabeth and Potter were at his father at the first task. He couldn't blame them.

"This stone," Potter said quietly, "is a reminder of what has happened—and what, if we aren't careful, might happen again. We must do all that we can to make sure that our friends, our children, and our relatives do not read our names on a future stone like this, and that we do not read theirs."

"Let's go," he said. Mike carefully placed his arm around Elizabeth and led her away. They were quiet until they got to the castle.

Potter turned to them. Mike spoke first. "I still don't understand why my father stopped being your friend—"

"It's a long and complicated story. I wanted to give you some background. We'll get back to it. But for now," he said, "I want you to look into it on your own. And don't forget, you do have a Triwizard Tournament task ahead, and you need to prepare. Good luck." With that, he strode off.

Elizabeth sighed. "Do you think he'll ever give us a straight answer?"

"Maybe... if we ask him a specific question."

"Yeah, maybe. Still no clue what to do with the staffs?"

"None whatsoever. Whack our opponents on their heads, maybe?"

She laughed. "If it's that, we're done for. The Krum twins will massacre everyone else."

"Right. But we'd better start looking. We have, what, a month and a half?"

"Plenty of time," Elizabeth said.

"Yeah, but it might take forever to do what we need."

She shrugged. "Let's meet tomorrow. Potter's lectures may be interesting, but they tire you out."

"Don't I know it. See you later."

"See you, Michael."

As he headed back to the Gryffindor common room, he forced a laugh at himself. He now had a second research topic on his hands. _Thank you, Professor Potter_.


	24. Strangeness

**Chapter 24. Strangeness.**

Both Mike and Elizabeth were busy over the week, and had few opportunities to talk to one another. They did agree to meet on Saturday in the empty Transfiguration classroom to work on the clue, however. He was thankful that she had managed to restrain her housemates a bit, though Nadine Zabini, Patricia Nott, and Robert Goyle still went out of their way to taunt him by tossing names, enchanting objects to do nasty things, and harassing first- and second-years, forcing him to step in. He was happy to have reached Friday.

There were other issues. Seeing as Dave and Laura were now a couple, he spent most of his time with Kate. There were now rumors that _they_ were an item. Elizabeth seemed to believe his denial. Very few other people (and no Slytherins) did.

He entered the Transfiguration classroom, carrying a stack of books and a large bottle of pumpkin juice. Elizabeth lifted her eyebrows.

"How can you drink that?" she asked. "It's disgusting."

"I don't question your tastes," he retorted.

"Whatever. Any luck?"

"Maybe we're approaching this the wrong way." Mike sat down. "Have you discovered how the staff can separate the way it does?"

"An embedded Fusion Charm," she replied. "It can wear off, mind you... so we better not separate and reassemble it more often than we have to."

"I didn't know that. Could the charm be somehow... projected onto something else?"

"I don't understand."

"What if the end of the staff can connect with something besides the other piece? Something in the second task?"

Elizabeth froze. "That's..."

"Possible? Likely?"

"The only question is... why the two halves? I feel like there's something about it that we're not considering."

"Possible. But let's think about my idea. What would the other object be?"

"Well," Elizabeth pondered, "it's probably similar to the staff itself. Wooden, polished... Relax, it'll probably be obvious when we see it."

"If it's too obvious, there won't be much of a challenge—you know perfectly well they'll push us to the limit. Hydras. I'm still sore from all that swimming."

"Hey, _I_ nearly drowned," Elizabeth said.

"Or maybe," Mike pushed on, ignoring that remark, "they'll deliberately make the solution something else, since they'd expect us to look for something similar to the staff."

"Yeah, but what do we look for, then? Something _not _like the wood?"

Mike thought for a moment. "The Fusion Charm is supposed to be more difficult with unlike materials..."

"Oh, please. Very skilled witches and wizards set up the Tournament. If it's possible, we should expect it."

"Still... what kind of wood is this?"

Elizabeth carefully inspected the staff. "You know, it appears familiar..." she whispered. "We have a furniture set like this at home... made of Canadian elm—"

At that moment, Mike spat pumpkin juice all over her. "Oh! I'm sorry!"

"You are dead, Weasley," Elizabeth declared. "You are—"

"_Scourgify!_" Mike said. The pumpkin juice vanished, but Elizabeth still reached for her wand.

"You are dead," she repeated.

"Did you say Canadian elm?" Mike blurted out.

"Yes, Canadian elm," she said, raising her wand.

"I've got to go!" Mike bolted. _This is it!_ he thought. Considering what had just happened, however, he couldn't present his idea to Elizabeth without being certain.

XXX

The next day, Mike eagerly rushed down to breakfast. "Whoa..." David Jordan stopped him. "What's gotten into you?"

Mike glanced across the hall to where Elizabeth and Nadine Zabini were discussing something. He then began wolfing down his breakfast, periodically glancing up.

Kate came down. "Morning, Dave," she said cheerfully. "Hi, Mike."

"Mike's excited about something," Dave supplied.

"All right," Kate demanded, "who?"

"What?" Mike stared at her.

"Who's the girl?"

"No one," Mike said. "Why—"

"Last time I saw you like this, you were all over Megan. I know—"

"No one," he said. "I'm just waiting for a letter."

"From whom?" Dave asked, but at this point, the cloud of owls swarmed in.

Annabel landed next to them. Mike untied the letter, and opened it. He read it over several times.

Getting up, he headed over to the Slytherin table. "Elizabeth!" he shouted.

She turned and glared; she wasn't the only one to do so. "What?" she demanded. "I don't want any more pumpkin juice." Several Slytherins erupted with laughter.

Mike ignored them. "Here. Read this." He thrust the letter into her hand.

He watched her face as she read. The expression changed from angry, to surprised, to glowing. She looked up. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Elizabeth got up. "You're still dead, Weasley."

"Look, once again, I'm sorry. I just remembered hearing about this when you said 'Canadian elm'. I wrote to confirm it."

"We need this book in the Restricted Section," Elizabeth said. "Who—"

"Who do you think?" Mike said.

Elizabeth nodded. "Potter."

"Yes, Miss Malfoy?" Professor Potter approached them.

"Sir, we need to use a book from the Restricted Section for the Tournament," Mike explained.

"Ahh... well, follow me."

"Here, I've got the form," Mike said.

Potter looked at it and laughed. "_Moste Potente Potions_," he said. "The irony..."

"What?"

"Never mind," Potter said, signing the form. "Here you go... and good luck. And if you're interested in learning more _history_, stop by my office tomorrow, around seven. If, that is, you're not too busy."

"Thank you, Professor," Elizabeth said. "Come on, Mike."

Mike shrugged. "I'm not that good at Potions, you know."

"Well, then you're lucky you've got me on your side. Let's go."


	25. Past Excursion

**Chapter 25. Past excursion.**

"What do you think he'll tell us?" Michael asked Elizabeth.

"How should I know?" She shrugged. "First time I'm going into that office without detention."

"I can remedy that," Potter said, appearing from behind them.

"Professor!" Michael exclaimed.

"Well, come in." He opened the door and motioned them in. "Sit down."

Elizabeth looked around. Little had changed, except that the two swords Potter had offered to her and Michael now hung prominently on the walls. The rest were, no doubt, still in the cabinet. Potter's desk was littered with books and rolls of parchment. She glanced at the title of one of the books. _The Republic_, by Plato. She shrugged. It didn't ring any bells.

"Well, here we are," Potter said, sweeping away the parchments and placing a large stone basin on the desk. "This is a Pensieve," he explained, although Elizabeth realized that. "I will show you several events that occurred towards the end of the second war... that some say _were_ the end of the second war."

"This happened in the early autumn of 2002," he told them. "You ready? This may not be easy to watch... especially considering whom you're about to see."

Both Michael and Elizabeth nodded. Elizabeth looked into the silvery liquid... and felt herself be hurled elsewhere. She closed her eyes.

_Thump. _Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked around. She, Michael, and Professor Potter were standing on a lawn in front of an old house. Michael gasped. A bright skull with a snake in its mouth hovered overhead.

"Where are we?"

"Just watch," Potter said.

A tall, black-haired woman stepped out. Four men followed her. "Damn," one of them said. "No sign of her or the brat."

"Rookwood, the Dark Lord will not be pleased. At either the faulty information, or that you sent up the Mark over a cat."

A suppressed cough came from somewhere nearby. "What was that?" another man asked.

"It's noth—" the woman began, but stopped. Something moved right next to them, and a new person appeared. Elizabeth lifted her eyebrows. Standing next to them was a twenty-year-old Professor Potter.

"Potter," the woman said.

"Bellatrix," Potter replied.

"How's the godfather?" she sneered.

"Five Death Eaters sent after an old woman. And failed!" Potter retorted.

One of the Death Eaters reached for his wand. Potter was faster. A bright red stunner hurled towards the Death Eater and felled him.

The four others drew their wands. "_Crucio_," Bellatrix said.

Potter dodged it, and replied with another stunner, but Bellatrix leaped aside. "Surely you can do better, Potter," she jeered.

He said nothing, dodging several more curses. Rookwood lifted his wand and conjured up a net seemingly made of light. The net nearly caught Potter before he turned and dispelled it.

Then Potter was hit in the back by a rock lifted and hurled magically by one of the other men. He fell to his knees, but didn't drop the wand. Instead, he looked up and aimed at Rookwood. Nothing came out of the wand... but suddenly the Death Eater's robes caught fire. Rookwood screamed in pain and attempted to put the fire out.

_Pop._ Someone Apparated in. He wasted no time. "_Stupefy!_" he shouted, and the Death Eater who had hurled the rock dropped. He turned to Bellatrix and the remaining man. It was then that Elizabeth recognized him. It was her father.

"Where is she, Aunt?" Draco Malfoy demanded. "I'm not like Potter here, I'll kill you!"

Bellatrix laughed. "No. You won't. Let's go." She motioned, and both Death Eaters Disapparated. The two stunned Death Eaters and burned Rookwood were left behind.

"Aaargh!" her father cursed. He turned. "Potter," he said.

"Malfoy," Potter replied. "Shouldn't you go with them?"

"Shut up, Potter. I proved—"

"Spare me, Malfoy. As far as I'm concerned, you only proved that the Ministry is corrupt—not that I didn't know that already."

"Spare the moralizing, Potter," Malfoy said, but at that point several other people Apparated.

"Grandma!" one of them, a short, round-faced young man shouted. He then turned. "You!" He reached for his wand.

"Neville, your grandmother is all right!" Potter said. Neville stopped.

Malfoy smirked. "Attacking everything in sight, Longbottom?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter said. Neville's grandmother approached them and, without a glance at Malfoy, handed Professor Potter an Invisibility Cloak. "Thank you, Mr. Potter," she said. Then she Disapparated. Neville followed.

One of the new people, a woman with bright pink hair, approached them. "Harry? You all right?"

"Yeah, Tonks, I'm fine," Potter replied. "You'll handle here, right? Who are they? I recognized Rookwood and Goyle, but—"

"Nott."

Potter nodded. "Bellatrix and Seward were with them. Any idea why?"

"We'll ask Mrs. Longbottom as soon as we can, but I doubt it was anything big."

"Sure. Take care, Tonks," he said.

The woman turned away and motioned to two other people with her. Each of them picked up a Death Eater body and Disapparated.

"What are you still doing here, Malfoy?" Potter demanded.

"I want to know what they tell the Ministry. I know you'll be informed—by that Metamorphmagus cousin of mine, probably. I want to know."

"Why? To pass information back to your precious Dark Lord?"

"I've really had it with you, Potter," Malfoy replied. "I have as much reason to fight them—at least now—as you do. Maybe more."

"Voldemort killed your father for failing a mission. Hardly the same—"

"They have my wife, Potter."

"What?"

"It's that American creep, Seward. I'm sure he's behind it. Pansy didn't come home one night from a visit with her parents. Four days ago."

"You didn't report it?"

"I got a note saying that she'd be killed if I tell."

"And you're telling me."

"I couldn't see anyone else to turn to, now that Seward and my dear aunt have escaped."

Potter stood in silence.

"I'm not asking you to go after her with me. Just information that might get me on track."

Potter didn't reply.

"Potter—"

"Fine," he snarled. "How? Owls? That might as well be telling Voldemort—"

"Here," Malfoy said, handing Potter a vial.

"What is it?" Potter asked.

"My hair. You can use it to seal messages so that they can be read only by me."

Potter appeared a bit amused. "You know that that's how lovers usually communicate. You don't want rumors—"

"There'll be no rumors if no one starts them," Malfoy cut in.

Potter nodded. "I'll see what I can find out," he said.

Elizabeth watched as her father turned towards Potter again. "Potter," he said.

"What?" Potter asked, preparing to Disapparate.

"She's pregnant."

Reality dissolved around her and Elizabeth found herself back in Potter's office.

"I wasn't very nice towards your father, but then, we hated each other during school, and it was only a year since your grandfather killed my brother-in-law. But it was this meeting that started the change in our relationship.

"I think that's more than enough for today," Potter said. "Goodnight, Mr. Weasley. Miss Malfoy."

Elizabeth headed back to her dormitory in silence. There was too much to think about.


	26. Potion Brewing

**Chapter 26. Potion Brewing.**

"A girls' bathroom?"

"Don't worry, no one ever comes here."

"Why not?"

"Moaning Myrtle," Elizabeth said. "A ghost."

"Where is she?"

"Quiet! If she isn't here, it's better for us. Less distraction." She began to set up the cauldron. "Did you bring your staff?"

Mike put it next to the other ingredients. "Do we need both halves?" he asked. "Maybe we should just use one—just in case we're completely wrong."

"Good idea," Elizabeth agreed. "But I think that's unlikely. Why else would they have the second task at night?"

Mike finished the setup. "There could be plenty of reasons... what does the book say?"

Elizabeth began reading. "The Nicthalopy Potion is used to allow the drinker to see in the dark. Primary ingredients: shredded wood of Canadian elm, laced with dragon blood..." She read off a few more ingredients. "Damn this. Two bits from two different nocturnal creatures, must be added _precisely_ at dusk and dawn on the fourth day's brewing. Using a potion in which the timing was off can lead to problems, including permanent night vision—ouch, you'd never be able to go into the sun again—and blindness."

"Blindness?" Mike jumped.

"That's what it says."

"How long does it take?"

"Eleven days, counting the cool-off period."

Mike did the math in his head. "But that means—"

"I know. We won't be able to test it until the task. I knew the schedule would be tight—even if we already have the Canadian elm, the other ingredients are not your everyday stuff. Took a while for them to come in."

Mike paced the bathroom a few times. "We have no choice, right?"

"Unless you feel like quitting and giving up the Cup to Durmstrang—"

"I get it. Come on."

Elizabeth filled the cauldron with water as Mike took out a knife and began shredding one half of the staff. Pieces of wood started falling into the cauldron.

"So," Elizabeth began, "what do you think about it?"

"About what?"

"Don't be stupid. About Potter, of course."

"You mean what he showed us? I didn't think you'd want to talk about it."

Elizabeth narrowed her stare. "It's just a shock, seeing my father like that. Remember Christmas? Hard to think it's the same two people."

"I suppose so. Maybe he'll show us my parents later. They were his best friends, after all. That's what I'd really like to know. How they fell apart."

"Did you ask him?"

"He said Voldemort came between them. He didn't elaborate."

"I see. What about your aunt?"

"Aunt Ginny? Well, he hasn't shown us her, either. I somehow get the feeling he'll show us as little as possible."

"Sneaky," Elizabeth agreed. "It's what I would have done if I had a secret to keep."

"Did you ever hear about this? Your mother's capture?"

"No. I knew she gave birth to me shortly before the Dark Lord's defeat."

"My mum's probably pregnant with me, too."

Elizabeth nodded. "And Longbottom? Katherine—"

"Kate doesn't look much like her father, I know."

"Now I can see where it comes from..."

"What?"

"The way she fences. She's good, but she is too quick to attack."

"And you think that comes from her dad? You've only—"

"Maybe not. But it fits. She won't listen to me, but you might teach her the value of a good defense."

Mike thought about this. "I kind of have my hands full right now. Kate's smart, she'll figure it out."

"If you say so. I wouldn't trust things to fate."

"Who said anything about that?"

Elizabeth placed the lid on the cauldron. "We don't have to bother till tomorrow."

Mike nodded. "I'm really tired." He yawned. "Thanks. There's no way I could do this alone."

"You know, maybe it's a good thing our names came out of the Goblet together."

"Oh really? Why?"

"I can't imagine I'd be having this much fun if I had to partner up with—"

"Now hold on just one sec! You think the Goblet would have selected _you _otherwise? It might have been me and Dave, you know."

"Jordan? Come on?"

"Why, you arrogant—"

"Pot. Kettle. Black."

Mike laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow, Elizabeth. For what it's worth, I think it's a good thing your name came out too."

"And why is that?"

_Because I like you, and if it hadn't happened, I wouldn't even consider this._ "Because—" he smiled at her "—Dave is even worse at potion-making than I am." And he left. He could have asked her out, but the way she reacted to his last kiss wasn't promising. He decided to get through the second task before he started worrying about that. They needed to work as a team now.


	27. Desert Meeting

**Chapter 27. Desert Meeting.**

Elizabeth entered Potter's office. Michael was already there, looking at a sword—the one he'd first used in their detention.

"Good evening, Miss Malfoy," Professor Potter said.

"Hi." Michael smiled at her.

Potter took the sword away from Michael. "Shall we?" he asked, once again placing the Pensieve in front of them.

"This happened four days after what you saw before," he said. "And, just as a warning, it's going to be hot."

"Hot?" Michael asked, but Elizabeth leaned towards the white swirls.

A blast of hot air struck her face, and she felt sweat droplets form on her forehead. Michael and Potter were standing next to her.

"Where are we?"

"Southwestern United States," Potter replied. "New Mexico."

"Why?" Michael asked. Aside from a small, dilapidated building, there was nothing but desert.

Two figures popped out of thin air. They immediately drew their wands.

"Nothing," her father said.

"He'll be here," Potter replied.

"Just why—"

"Seward hates Muggles. He thinks wizards are better."

"So do I."

"Malfoy, you don't know anything about them. Seward is a Muggle-born."

"What?"

"Oh yes. An American Muggle-born Death Eater."

"And the Dark Lord?"

"I think he knows. He is, after all, a very skilled Legilimens."

"So what is this place?"

"The first atomic bomb was detonated here. In 1945."

"An atomic bomb?"

"Muggle weapon. You can destroy a whole city in one blast. Now be quiet, and get under my cloak."

Her father and Potter wrapped the cloak around themselves and vanished. Soon afterwards, Elizabeth spotted a growing dot in the sky. The dot got larger, resolved itself into two, and turned into two people on broomsticks.

They landed next to the small house, and entered.

"Potter," said the voice of Elizabeth's father, "wasn't that—"

"Lavender Brown? Yes. Seward is her lover."

"I will not comment on Gryffindors."

"Good, don't. Because we better hurry if you want to rescue Pansy."

"She's in there?" Her father rushed towards the house, but Potter restrained him.

"If she was—that is, if we knew for sure—we wouldn't be standing here alone. I don't know where Pansy is. But Seward does. We're going to corner him."

The two went into the building. Elizabeth felt the scenery swirl around and transform into a dark hallway.

Her father and Potter climbed down a narrow staircase. "Light your wand, Malfoy," Potter said.

"I think there will be no need for that," another voice said coolly.

"Seward," Potter answered. "_Expelliarmus!_"

Seward laughed and deflected the spell. "Don't try to fight me with toys."

"Where's Pansy?" her father demanded.

"See what happens when you turn your back on the Dark Lord, Draco? Your _family_ suffers."

"Where is she?" Her father charged Seward, who launched a spell, throwing him back. He stood up, apparently in pain.

"Malfoy, watch for others!" Potter shouted. "_Legilimens!_"

Seward stumbled back, but quickly recovered. "Forget it, Potter! I am the most skilled Occlumens in the world, after the Dark Lord, of course! You—"

"_Legilimens!_" Potter snapped. Elizabeth watched as he tightly clutched the wand, his face almost inhuman in concentration. His eyes snapped open and he fell, panting.

"Told you, Potter. You won't—"

"_Legilimens!_" Potter said for the third time. Elizabeth could see the enormous effort this cost him... the sweat poured off his red, puffed face... the tip of the wand glowed with power...

Then, Seward mumbled something and slowly, almost spilling himself, sank to the floor and sprawled there. Potter breathed heavily, taking a few cautious steps.

"What did you do?" her father asked.

"I broke his mind," Potter replied. "He should have let me in. Then it wouldn't have harmed him."

"What if he turned out to be the stronger one, Potter?"

"Then I'd be the one lying there. Come—"

"Andrew!" a woman's voice rang out. A young blond woman ran into the room. "Andrew—you! You killed him!" Lavender shouted and reached for her wand.

"_Expelliarmus!_" her father shouted, taking away her wand.

"Hello, Lavender," Potter said. "Nice company you keep these days."

"It's—" Lavender shrieked, but then Elizabeth found herself back in Potter's office.

"I think that's enough," he said. "You'll see the rest quite soon. But I do believe you have a big event tomorrow night, and I advise you to rest."

Michael bid Elizabeth goodnight and left, but she stayed. "Sir?" she asked. "What do you mean by 'breaking his mind'?"

"It means that we pitted our minds directly against each other—my mental attack against his mental shields. When I turned out to be more powerful, and got through despite his resistance, that resistance caused permanent brain damage. Essentially, his entire conscious self was burned away, leaving his body as just... functioning." He sighed.

"I was taking an enormous risk there, gambling on the fact that I was more powerful. Your father and I are lucky that I was right. Like I said, our situation might have been reversed."

"Why don't we hear about this more often?"

"Because it doesn't happen very often—in fact, this is the only instance in recent history that I know of. Usually Legilimency works—or fails—very quickly, and with no damage—at least, no direct damage—to either participant. Andrew Seward was exceptionally skilled in mind disciplines. I broke him with raw power. It wasn't a pleasant experience for me, either. If you're asking for some sort of guide as to when trying this is appropriate... consider it another Unforgivable Curse."

Elizabeth shook her head. "I do _not_ want to use this," she said.

"There are a lot of things we don't want to do," Potter answered. "I saw this as the only way to find out where your mother was being kept, so I used it. And if I had to do it again, I would. I certainly neither want nor intend for you to end up in such a situation, but you could, and you will have to deal with it. Goodnight, Miss Malfoy. I will see you tomorrow."

Elizabeth left the professor's office. Potter had spoken in harsh tones when he mentioned 'breaking the mind', both here and now and when he had done it. She certainly believed him that it was unpleasant... but the idea that she might have to do that... no. Best not to think about it.


	28. Entry Below

**Chapter 28. Entry Below.**

"Mike? You all right?"

"Yeah. Just nervous."

"Come on," Kate said.

"Mate, you'll do fine. You did figure it out, right?"

"I think so," Mike said. Carrying his half of the staff recovered in the first task, they headed downstairs. The second task was to take place in the dungeons.

"Elizabeth!" he shouted across the crowd of students. His partner smiled and headed over. "It's ready," she said, holding a flask filled with dark green liquid.

Mike looked around. Professor McGonagall was talking to Aunt Gabrielle while Potter was engaged in an animated discussion with Padma Patil. Gunther von Klausberg was whispering something to the Krum twins, and his uncle Percy was engrossed in a book and appeared aloof.

The two Beauxbatons girls walked up to the front of the room, grinning. The Krum twins joined them a moment later. Elizabeth and Mike glanced at each other.

"If she isn't back in one piece, Weasley," Nadine Zabini said, "I'll kill you."

"Now, Zabini," Kate said. "That's not very nice. Now he might leave Elizabeth there just to spite you."

"Hey!" Mike and Elizabeth shouted in unison.

"Good luck, you two," Laura Whittle said. "I just wish there was more for us to see."

"We'll tell you all about it," Mike promised. "Come on, Elizabeth."

They stood next to the other champions, in front of a wall engraved with gargoyles. A shiver came over Mike.

"Will everyone please quiet down," McGonagall said. The voices all either fell silent or hushed to whispers. Mike looked at the other champions. Fatima and Veronique were looking around the room, nervous. The Krum twins might as well have been stone statues, for all the emotion they showed.

"You got glasses, Elizabeth?"

"Yes," she replied.

In this room, Padma Patil didn't need the _Sonorus_ charm to be heard. "Champions, students, and guests! Welcome to the second task! The staffs you received should have been a clue and an aide for this." Looking at the other champions, Mike saw that the Krum twins still had the whole staff, while Fatima and Veronique had none. He hoped that he and Elizabeth had made the right decision.

"The dungeon is completely dark," Patil said, "with the exception of the fires burning in the heart of it. The fires are burning blue, green, and red flames." She pointed at three bronze lamps positioned on a stand behind them. "You are to bring back and light your lamp with the blue flame, without disturbing the red or green ones." She paused.

"Sounds simple enough," Mike said to himself.

"Based on the performance in the first task, the Durmstrang champions will enter the dungeon first, followed by Beauxbatons and then Hogwarts," Padma finished.

"That's not fair!" Elizabeth complained.

"They're not going to change it," Mike answered.

"It's still not fair."

"The entrance to the dungeon is in this room," Patil said. "But the exits—and there are several—are elsewhere, and you'll have to find them. Good luck."

"Excuse me," one of the Krum twins said, turning to the panel, "but vere is the entrance?"

Potter stood up and raised his wand. Pointing at the wall, he said something, and hit a gargoyle carving straight in the eye. And then... a gap appeared in the middle of the wall, with two enormous stone doors swinging outward. There was nothing but darkness inside.

"Right there, Mr. Krum," Potter said. "Any more questions?"

Krum turned away.

"On the crack of my wand," Patil said, "three, two, one..." _CRACK!_ The sound echoed in the dungeon. The Krum twins headed to the door and vanished inside.

Mike was getting impatient. Every second hurt their chances. He barely noticed the Beauxbatons champions enter the dungeon. Elizabeth tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey!" she said. She thrust a glass into his hand. "You ready?"

Mike nodded. Elizabeth poured the potion into his glass.

He looked at her. "Cheers," he said. They clicked the glasses, and drank. Mike forced himself to swallow the very thick and very sour liquid.

_CRACK!_ Padma Patil's wand made the exploding noise. Mike set aside the glass, drew his wand, and headed towards the dark opening.

As soon as they were inside, the stone doors slammed shut behind them.


	29. Dungeon Keepers

**Chapter 29. Dungeon Keepers.**

Elizabeth couldn't see anything.

"Are you sure you made the potion right?" Michael asked.

"You were there, you followed the instructions. It should work."

"Well, it—" Michael stopped. Elizabeth saw the room light up—or rather, since there was no source of light, her vision suddenly returned to her.

They were in a small chamber, and right ahead of them was a staircase leading down.

"Let's go," she said.

"I just hope it's not—" Michael began.

"Not what?"

"Nothing," he said. "Watch out!"

"_Stupefy!_" Elizabeth shouted. "_Stupefy!_"

Two large bats fell to the floor, but several dozen more rushed them.

"_Stupefy!_" Michael Stunned the closest bat, but they simply kept coming.

"Aaargh! My wand!" Elizabeth screamed.

"_Stupefy! Stupefy!_" Michael had to drop to the floor and hide his wand underneath him. "Oh, this isn't working!"

Elizabeth screamed again and buried her face in her hands. "Do something!" she yelled.

"_Alto Sonorus!_" Michael shouted. The bats seemed to lose control, colliding with walls, ceiling, and each other. A few flew away. The room grew quiet.

Michael helped Elizabeth up. "Are you all right?"

"I think so."

"_Accio wand!_" Michael caught Elizabeth's wand and handed it to her.

"What was that? I still feel ringing in my ears."

"I know. Bats use ultrasound to navigate. I created a very powerful ultrasonic noise that blanketed out everything else. It's like a very bright light, so bright that you wouldn't be able to see anything but it."

Elizabeth nodded. "Where to now?"

They were standing in a small room with a doorway on each side, one of which they had just entered through. "Well, it's left, right, or forward," Michael said.

"Can't go right," Elizabeth replied. "It'll take us forever to sort out this pile of rocks, and we're already behind."

"You think the others put it there to stop us?" Michael asked.

"Maybe. What's that?"

Michael was putting on a pair of glasses. "Oh. Invisibility detection glasses. Useful things; I should have put them on earlier. I got them for Christmas."

"They are—Michael, no!"

He had been walking towards the forward exit when one of the two statues standing at that door attempted to hit him with its spear.

Michael dodged, but not completely, and even a glancing blow was enough to hurl him to the floor.

"_Reducto!_" Elizabeth cried. A few small rocks flew off the statue. Michael rolled away from another blow.

"_Reducto!_" she tried again, with no more effectiveness than before.

"_Reducto!_" they shouted together. This time, the statue's spear broke in half. That proved to be no use, as it now had a weapon in each hand.

"_Stupefy!_" Michael tried, but nothing happened.

"Damn, this shouldn't happen!" Elizabeth yelled over the thunder of the statue's footsteps.

The statute hurled one of its spear halves at Elizabeth.

"_Protego!_" Michael shouted, jumping in front of her. "Ow!" he screamed in pain as the spear shattered on his shield. He dropped his wand.

Elizabeth glanced at Michael, who was now scampering away from the attacking figure. _I have no choice,_ she decided.

"_Imperio!_" she said, pointing her wand at the second statue, which was still standing at the door.

"Destroy it," she ordered, and motioned at Michael's attacker.

The second statue stepped off its pedestal, lumbered over to the first, and brought its ax down on the other statue's head. The first statue turned towards the new enemy, and the two began fighting each other. Elizabeth rushed up to Michael and pulled him to his feet.

"Hurry," she said. "_Accio wand!_"

"Thanks," he whispered as they walked through the door where had previously stood.

"_Colloportus,_" Elizabeth said, slamming shut the wrought iron gate.

She took Michael's arm. "You didn't break anything," she said, relieved.

"That's not what it feels like."

"Aww, poor baby. _Narcosio!_ Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Come on. We have a bit of an advantage now."

"What?" He paused, and gave her a look. "The Imperius Curse—Elizabeth, that's—"

"It wasn't sentient, what I did was perfectly legal," she said. "I think the Krums put it on the first statue."

"What?"

"Come on. They teach that sort of stuff in Durmstrang. They didn't want the others to follow them."

"And?"

"And so, they won't expect us to follow. So that's exactly what we do." She walked ahead.

They encountered no obstacles, with the exception of a few frightened, large spiders, whom they easily Stunned. "Good idea... letting the Krums do all the work for us."

"I didn't know you were this lazy," Elizabeth said.

"Elizabeth—"

"Shh!" she whispered and pointed ahead. One of the Krum twins was holding a lit wand above his brother's head, helping him look at the wall.

"Elizabeth, the—"

"Shh!"

"But—"

It was too late. The Krum twins turned and saw them.

"_Stupefy!_" one of them yelled, hitting Michael.


	30. Stealing Rainbows

**Chapter 30. Stealing Rainbows.**

Elizabeth dodged the second Stunner, which was launched at her, and threw one of her own. It missed, but it did provide a distraction.

"_Expelliarmus!_" she cried, ripping away the wand one of the twins held lit. "_Nox,_" she said. The room went dark.

For the twins, that was. Elizabeth, still under the effects of the Nicthalopy Potion, could see perfectly clearly.

"_Incendio!_" The other twin attempted to use a fire to get light. Elizabeth Stunned him as he did it, put out the fire, dodged a blow from the wandless twin, and dispatched him. She breathed. "_Ennervate," _she said, pointing at Michael.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Am _I_ all right? You've been dropped to this stone floor like—"

"You dueled the Krums. Where are they?"

"There, and there," she said, pointing at the stunned bodies. "It's a big advantage if you can see and your opponents can't. Apparently, they didn't make the potion."

"Elizabeth, I—"

"Come on. The Krums so kindly opened the door for us." She pointed at the opening in the wall next to a portion of the Durmstrang students' staff sticking out. "You were right, apparently. About the use of the staff as a key."

Mike approached and untwisted the half of the twins' staff, pulling it out of the wall. "Wonder where the other half is..."

"We don't have time for that."

"I know." He strapped the piece of wood to his back, next to his own. "Let's go."

They went through a long, descending corridor until they saw lights ahead. They stepped out... and gasped.

A square pyramid, twelve feet tall, stood at the base. The pyramid had seven levels, and a brightly colored flame was burning on each level, all around the pyramid. Red, green, red, green, red, green, and blue at the top.

"A broomstick would be nice to have right now," Michael said.

"I've got something better. You're not the only one who gets interesting things for Christmas." She took out the AnywhereString. "Now, tie that staff to it."

He did so. Elizabeth took the other end in her hand and directed the AnywhereString. The string end went up like a snake, taking the staff with it. It went up the height of the pyramid, then moved sideways, approaching the blue flame. The end of the staff entered the fire.

An enormous rush of wind suddenly took both of them and pulled Elizabeth and Michael into a corridor they hadn't spotted before. They were carried without control. Elizabeth tightly clutched the string, not daring to chance letting it go, since a tiny, flickering blue flame at the end indicated they had succeeded.

Suddenly, the motion stopped. "Do we have it?" she asked.

"Did you break anything?"

"I don't think so. See—"

"We have it." Michael showed her the burning staff. "Here's your string. Handy piece of equipment."

"Thanks. Where to now?"

"Up, I think," he said, pointing in that direction. Elizabeth nodded. The floor was much rougher than in the previous areas.

She finally saw a glimpse of the night sky and smelled something foul. She soon realized why. They were climbing outside between the roots of a huge tree in the Forbidden Forest.

"_Accio!_" someone cried as soon as they were out. Michael gasped as the staff was yanked out of his hand. Elizabeth looked up and saw the Beauxbatons girls hovering on broomsticks. Fatima held the staff in her hand.

"_Stupefy!_" both of them cried. But the spells appeared to hit an invisible ceiling, bouncing off. The two girls nodded to each other and flew away.

Elizabeth turned to Michael. "You—" She couldn't even bring herself to say anything. Was it his fault? Yes and no. It certainly wouldn't have made a difference if she had been holding it.

"What was that?" she managed to ask as they, dejected, walked along the path towards the castle.

"What?"

"The thing that stopped our spells."

He gave a laugh. "My mother invented those. Magical shields that can be placed anywhere, at any time. Now, they're only of short duration, and quite expensive to produce, but—"

"They did their job."

"Yes. During the war, and here. I don't know how my mother would feel about this."

Elizabeth looked at Michael. "You're still wearing those?"

He took the glasses off and frowned. "I saw the Beauxbatons champions go into the pyramid chamber. They were clearly invisible, or the Krums would have caught them."

Elizabeth turned to him in fury. "You didn't tell me this?"

"I tried."

"When?"

"When you kept stopping me—when we were approaching the Krums. And at the pyramid. I was just constantly interrupted."

"But if they went ahead, why did they need our flame?"

"My guess is, if you touch any flame there, the wind would start up. So if they disrupted the red or green fire, they wouldn't have what they needed. Or this could have been their plan from the beginning."

"Yeah. I guess we're even. I screw up a task, you screw up a task, we'll both screw up the third, and Hogwarts becomes the laughingstock of European magical education."

They entered the dungeon where they had started. Everyone was still there, even the Krum twins and the Beauxbatons girls. Both parties looked disappointed.

They approached the judges' table. Elizabeth blinked several times to make sure she was seeing things correctly. All three lamps remained unlit.

Wordlessly, Michael took the other half-staff he had carried from his back. He waved his wand over it... and the magical shroud lifted, revealing a burning blue flame.

Elizabeth could only stare along with the rest of the audience as Mike lifted the staff to the lamp and lit it. The blue flame danced merrily.

Mike put out the flame on the staff and bowed to the judges. They stepped down to massive applause from the Hogwarts students. "Mike!" Kate yelled across the hall. "Mike, the material of the staff could also be used to make an invisibility potion!"

"We sort of figured that out on our own, Longbottom," Elizabeth snapped.

"_We?_" Mike demanded.

"All right, Weasley. Please explain. You didn't tell me you had it because you wanted to show off."

"Guilty as charged. You—"

"I understand. But how—"

"I told you. I saw them go in. I thought that we'd lost for sure, but after the wind swept us, I realized why they said not to disturb the green and red flames, and that there was a chance that they'd try to get it from us—if they'd made such a mistake." He shrugged. "I placed the shroud, and carried a staff with fake fire. What can I say, I'm good at Transfiguration. You know that."

Elizabeth then couldn't hold it anymore. She jumped at Mike and kissed him fiercely.

He kissed back.


	31. The Parents' Trap

**Chapter 31. The Parents' Trap.**

Mike almost regretted asking Professor Potter about his parents, since that meant another session at the Pensieve tonight, rather than a few private moments with his new girlfriend. When he told Elizabeth that, she laughed and said they'd have plenty of time. They also had a couple of fun minutes imagining their parents' reactions if they found out. But at eight o'clock the day after the task, they, holding hands, entered Potter's office.

It was empty. Elizabeth took down Slytherin's sword and took a few menacing steps towards Mike. "Are you sure you don't want to join the fencing club now?" she asked.

"Yep," Mike replied. "Pretty sure."

"Chicken," she teased.

"What?"

"You're afraid you'd get smacked around by your girlfriend."

"That's nonsense. I _know_ you can beat me in a swordfight. That's why I'm not interested—it won't be fun for you or me. It'd be like one of us going up against Potter in a duel."

"Have it your way, Weasley. Someday, I _will_ get you onto the _piste_."

Mike shook his head. "It'll take the rest of our lives... and I still won't do it."

"Well then, I guess my career path is set," she answered.

"That's good to know," Professor Potter said as he entered. "Sit down."

They did so, letting go of each other's hands. Potter smiled.

"Congratulations," he began. "Well done, both of you. Preparation, teamwork, thinking on your feet—exemplary. If you manage to do the same in the third task, I think the Triwizard Cup is in Hogwarts' hands. Now," he continued, "do you wish to continue our excursion into the past? We're not on a tight schedule here."

Elizabeth turned to Mike, blushing. He nodded. So far, this pertained more to Elizabeth's past than to his own, and she seemed extremely interested.

"Yes," Elizabeth said simply.

"Then let's go," Potter said, taking out the Pensieve. "I believe we left off after my mind clash with Andrew Seward, which led to a mental overload, and when Lavender Brown showed up." Mike nodded. Of course he remembered that.

"Lavender Brown," Potter said, "was a Gryffindor student in my year. In our sixth year—" he smiled at the memory, "—she and your father dated for a few months."

"What?" Mike demanded.

Potter laughed. "Yes. Your mother—" he paused "—did not like that very much."

Elizabeth and Mike turned to each other.

"After we left school," Potter continued, "we heard nothing from Lavender until our intelligence noted rumors of a woman resembling her at the side of a prominent Death Eater. We confirmed that it was Lavender about a month before the events you saw." He turned grim. "Her best friend in school, Parvati Patil—Padma's twin sister—contacted her, hoping to bring her back to our side." He sighed. "It didn't work. Lavender either truly believed in pure-blood superiority—which would be strange considering that Seward was Muggle-born—or her love for Seward crossed all reasonable and unreasonable boundaries. Either way, she led Parvati into a trap, where Voldemort killed her personally. I hope I do not need to tell you not to mention this woman in front of _Padma_ Patil."

Mike and Elizabeth, stunned at this information, nodded.

"In that case," he said, approaching the Pensieve, "here's where things get interesting."

Once again, the environment twisted around them, placing them in the same corridor as before, with young Potter and Elizabeth's father, standing with raised wands, and Lavender Brown crouched over Seward.

"What have you done—" Lavender began.

"_Stupefy!_" Potter shouted, dropping Lavender on top of her lover's body. "I've had enough," he said.

Malfoy shook his head. "Why'd—"

"Later. I did get what we needed from Seward's mind." He frowned. "We'll have to sneak up on your aunt."

"Afraid?"

"Not for myself. She's not in her right mind, you know."

"How so?"

"Well, put it this way... If I had to describe her feelings towards Voldemort in one word, it'd have to be... _lust_."

Malfoy stopped. "_You_ are nuts, Potter. But then, you may be right. But does it—"

"It matters," Potter said, "because she might kill Pansy out of spite."

Malfoy froze. "So what do we do?"

"Leave Bellatrix to me," Potter said. "Get Pansy and get her out of here. If I don't make it, go to Neville and tell him what happened. He's the most likely one of my circle to hear you out."

Malfoy nodded, processing the information. Suddenly, Potter grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"Potter! What—"

"Right here, Malfoy," Potter said. "You ready?"

He nodded. Potter took something out of his pocket. "One of Hermione's projective shields," he said. "Stops anything except _Avada Kedavra_. And Bellatrix _never_ uses that first."

Mike looked at Elizabeth, who turned her eyebrows at him. He smiled and looked back.

"_Reducto,_" Malfoy said. The door cracked, and Potter rushed in, activating his shield, which immediately felt impact under a curse.

"_Sectumsempra!_" he shouted, aiming at Bellatrix Lestrange. She dodged and threw a curse at Malfoy, who was attempting to sneak towards a dark corner. Mike looked closer, and made out some movement there. He shuddered. There appeared to be nothing available for comfort, and the place was chilly. Elizabeth grabbed his hand, shaking. He couldn't blame her. If Potter and Malfoy were right, that was her mother.

Elizabeth's father blocked the spell. Bellatrix dodged a Stunner from Potter and taunted Malfoy.

"Letting another fight for you, nephew? That's all good—if the person you choose can fight—Aaargh!"

Potter's next Stunner hit Bellatrix in the shoulder, glancing off a hastily thrown magical shield. In rage, the Death Eater cast at least ten spells at Potter, two of which, by their looks, were Killing Curses.

Potter dodged all of them, and countered with a barrage of his own. Stray spells now hit walls, and chipped chinks of rock were sent hurling at the combatants.

Malfoy reached his destination at this point. The woman, obviously pregnant, lay on the stone floor, covered in rags. Mike couldn't make out her face under the massive curls of unkempt black hair.

"Water," Pansy moaned. Malfoy brought the tip of his wand to her lips and a trickle entered her mouth.

The woman's eyes fluttered open. "Draco!" she whispered. "She... Cruciatus... the baby..."

Malfoy almost dropped her. His face bore an expression similar to Elizabeth's when she first found out they were champions, but ten times more intense. He raised his wand.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" he bellowed.

Shocked, Bellatrix turned towards him and met a bolt of green light head-on. She fell dead.

"Malfoy!" Potter shouted as he ran up. The duel hadn't done him good. His robes were torn, his glasses broken, his hair covered in dust, and he had bruises all over his arms and legs.

"What're you going to do, Potter? Report me to the Ministry? First of all, this isn't British territory, second of all, they'd probably say 'good riddance'."

"I would too," Potter said. "But I would have gotten her eventually. She was in no better shape than I am, and she tires faster."

"Whatever. I wasn't thinking—"

"Is Pansy all right?" Potter interrupted.

"We have to get her to a hospital," Malfoy said.

"Hold her. Grab on to me," he ordered.

"What?" Malfoy asked, but did as he was told.

Potter took something out of his pocket. "I thought we might need this," he said. "Ready?"

Malfoy nodded. Potter touched something, and the three people vanished.

The scenery around them transformed, and Mike recognized the familiar lobby of St. Mungo's Hospital. Malfoy looked at Potter.

"A transcontinental Portkey?" he asked. "Do you know how tightly regulated they are?"

"Malfoy, you're not the one to lecture me on following laws. We—"

"Hi, Harry," a woman's voice said. "Are you—"

Mike looked at the blond woman in surprise. He was staring at Kate's mother, Hannah Longbottom. "Pansy?" she said. "What're you—" She focused on Malfoy.

"Hannah, please. Pansy's heavily pregnant, had no food or water in days, and suffered torture under Cruciatus. She—"

"All right," Hannah agreed. "But just because you asked, Harry." She turned to Malfoy. "I didn't forget."

The Healers carried Pansy away. Potter and Malfoy followed in silence.

Then Mike and Elizabeth were out of the Pensieve.

Potter breathed heavily and looked at them, as if expecting questions. Elizabeth broke the silence first. "Did my—"

"Your father," Potter said quietly, "did not wish me to show you this. But I think truth is generally preferable to lies—and you would find out sooner or later anyway." He sighed. "I think we should hold off our next session for at least two weeks. I will see you tomorrow in class."

Outside the door, Mike reached out to hug Elizabeth, but she twirled away. Ignoring his pleas, she headed, almost running, to the entrance to the Slytherin dorm. She paused outside, turned, managed a whispered 'Goodnight', and entered. Mike stood outside before heading off to bed.

_We break up without even one date,_ he thought. _Damn Potter._


	32. Nadine's Story

**Chapter 32. Nadine's story.**

Elizabeth plunged onto her bed. "Just perfect," she muttered.

"What happened?" Nadine called over from the next bed.

"Are we alone?" Elizabeth suddenly asked.

"What does it look like?" Nadine countered. "Nott's off somewhere... I'd rather not know. Are you going to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Whatever it is you're upset about."

"Mike doesn't like me."

"Are you nuts? After—"

"I thought you didn't like—"

"Look, I'm not thrilled about you two, but if you want to date Weasley, it's not my place to stop you. But you are crazy if you think he's not interested after what you did in front of the whole school."

"That was before—"

"Before what?"

"Before—"

"Where were you tonight, anyway?"

"Potter's."

"_Why?!_"

"That's what started this. Mike's parents were Potter's best friends at school."

Nadine shrugged, as if it was expected. Elizabeth breathed and continued.

"Mike wanted to know why they aren't anymore, and why my father—whom he hated at school—is apparently his best friend now."

"And?"

"And Potter said he'd tell us."

"_Us_?"

"He said it concerned me too. Well, it concerned my parents, actually."

"Elizabeth, _get to the point._"

"He's been showing us Pensieve memories. Tonight, he showed us how he and my father rescued my mother from Death Eater captivity."

"I thought you'd like that."

"Well, the Death Eater—Bellatrix Lestrange—was holding my mother. So Potter and Dad go in, and Potter starts a duel with her, while Dad goes to get Mum—she's unconscious. He gets to her, she whispers a few words before fainting. Apparently, Bellatrix used the Cruciatus Curse on her—this is while she's pregnant with me." Nadine gasped.

Elizabeth wanted to ask, but decided to finish. "So at this point, Lestrange is so busy with Potter that Dad can get almost any spell in. Guess which he chose?"

"Stunning? That's what you'd usually use."

Elizabeth shook her head. "He used _Avada Kedavra_," she said.

"He killed her?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said. "Well, I suppose I understand—this is my mother, after all. Potter, if not exactly approving, decided to shrug it off."

"So?"

"So, you know what reputation the Weasleys have. Goody-two-shoes, the lot of them—or that's what they'd like to believe. Not a Dark bone in their bodies. Of course, Mike's not going to want to have anything to do with me, now that he knows I'm tainted."

"And you like him."

"And I like him," Elizabeth agreed.

"Well," Nadine said, "you can either confront him about it—"

"No."

"—or you can sit here and wallow—"

"I am not—"

"—or you can try to find out what he _really _thinks without him knowing about it."

"How?"

"Leave that to me."

"You?"

"What? Don't you trust me?"

"Usually. But you've this beef with Potter—"

"He killed my mother."

"What? That's nonsense, how—"

"Well, not directly. Here." She gave her a photograph.

Nadine's father was hugging... Padma Patil.

"What?!" Elizabeth yelled. "But that's—"

"No. My mother was _Parvati._"

"Oh. But Potter just told us—"

"What?"

"He said Parvati—your mother—went after her best friend, who then betrayed her to the Dark Lord."

Nadine looked at her. "Is that all he said?"

"Essentially. He did emphasize that the Dark Lord killed her himself."

"My mother shouldn't have gone off. She'd just given birth to me, she wasn't in the best of shapes—and my father was set against it. But that's what she did. Typical Gryffindor. But she wouldn't have, if it wasn't for Potter."

"Why not?"

"She wouldn't know where to look. _Potter_ provided her with information. Potter got my mother killed."

Elizabeth sat for a moment, silent. Nadine picked up on it. "Going to make excuses for Potter, now?"

"No. Why don't you ask him yourself about it?"

"No. I'll grant that Potter didn't _set out_ to kill my mother, but that doesn't make her any less dead."

"Potter lost his wife."

"One, that was later, two, so what? What difference does it make?"

"I don't know, but I'd think if I was in that situation, I might appreciate help from someone who knew what I was going through. You know what that's like." She and Nadine had become friends in part because they both were raised without mothers.

"That's different. It doesn't—"

"Our friendship didn't bring our mothers back. Do you think it's worthless?"

"Of course not! But Potter still—"

"I'd talk to him," Elizabeth advised.

"I won't. However, back to our original topic. I'll have you and Weasley back to snogging each other in less than a week—though why you'd want to is beyond me."

"And if he's _really_ not interested?"

"Then he's not worth your time."

"So how do you propose to do all this?"

Nadine smiled. "I have my ways."


	33. Calling Mike Out

**Chapter 33. Calling Mike Out.**

Mike paid hardly any attention in Defense, still angry at Potter and watching Elizabeth. She ignored his glances. He left class in a hurry for lunch.

"Mike?" Kate sat down next to him.

"Wha—oh, hi, Kate."

"You've been avoiding Elizabeth," she said. It wasn't a question.

"So?" he asked.

"I thought you liked her."

"I... I do."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Men," Kate muttered.

"What about us?" Dave plunged down Kate's other side.

"Nothing," Kate said.

"So, Mike," Dave said, "how are things between you and Malfoy—"

"Don't you have your own love lives to worry about?" Mike erupted.

"Of course we do. Laura!" Dave called out to the Ravenclaw table and departed.

Kate looked angry. "You are—"

"I'm sorry, Kate. It's just... not going well."

"After _two days_?"

"Look, she's been avoiding _me_ ever since we had our last meeting with Professor Potter—"

"Wait... you've been meeting with Professor Potter—"

"Yeah. He's been telling us some things about our parents—well, it's been all about Potter and Elizabeth's father so far."

"Okay..."

"Well, last night, Potter showed us a fight between him and Elizabeth's father, and a Death Eater. It was actually Potter for most of it—Malfoy was trying to get to his wife. And then... his wife told him she'd been tortured... and he just went crazy. He killed the Death Eater with _Avada Kedavra_. He used an Unforgivable Curse where a Stunner would do just as well.

"I don't feel comfortable dating the daughter of a man like that," he admitted.

"I see. You wouldn't happen to know the Death Eater's name, would you?" Kate suddenly asked.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," he answered.

Kate sat in silence for almost twenty seconds, and finally jumped up. Brandishing her wand at him, she shouted out at the top of her lungs.

"MICHAEL RONALD WEASLEY, YOU ARE A COMPLETE IDIOT! APOLOGIZE TO ELIZABETH RIGHT FUCKING NOW!" She then hit him with some sort of painful hex. Mike got up and headed towards the Slytherin table, shocked at this change of behavior from his friend. Kate followed him, wand raised, as if he was a prisoner.

Both Elizabeth and Nadine Zabini stared at them. Zabini was the first to find her voice. "We should leave you two lovebirds alone," she suggested.

"Uhm... yeah," was all Mike could manage. "I'd rather not do this in front of everyone."

Elizabeth nodded. As soon as they were outside, she turned to him. "Well?"

"I'll apologize... but I'd like to know what for. Kate didn't make it clear, exactly."

Elizabeth looked at him. "For thinking I'm evil, for starters."

"But I never thought you were evil," he said.

Elizabeth blinked. "For thinking my father was evil, then."

"I never thought that either—"

"Then what—"

"I'm not exactly... comfortable with this—"

"And you think I am?" Now it was Mike's turn to blink.

"What?" she pressed. "You think my father's teaching me the Dark Arts? That our house is a Death Eater training camp?"

"I'm sorry," Mike said. "I thought, at least when it came to each other, we were past making judgments based on our families' reputations."

"I guess—" she smiled, "—we'll need more work on that."

"I guess so," he said, putting his arms around her.

"What happened to Longbottom? One moment, you're talking like everyone else would, and—"

"I told her the Death Eater your father killed was Lestrange."

"Any idea why?"

Mike shook his head. "Potter probably knows."

Elizabeth frowned. "We'll ask him, but I think the two-week break he suggested is a good idea."

"Agreed," Mike said. "It'll give us time—" he leaned in "—to work on our relationship."

They didn't return to their common rooms for hours.


	34. The Final Battle

**Chapter 34. The Final Battle.**

Two weeks passed like a blur, and at one point, Elizabeth breached the subject of resuming their 'historical studies', as they termed them. Mike agreed, and asked Professor Potter about this. Potter smiled. "How about tonight, Mr. Weasley?"

He looked at Elizabeth, who nodded.

"All right."

At seven o'clock, they entered the classroom. "Good evening," Potter said, closing a thick volume and getting out the Pensieve. "But before we begin, I need to provide you with a bit of background information."

"I have a question," Mike said.

"Go ahead."

"You must have heard Kate two weeks ago, when—"

Potter chuckled. "It was kind of hard to miss."

"Well, it happened after I mentioned Bellatrix Lestrange's name—"

"Ahh," Potter said. "You remember that day when we visited the memorial. Among the names I showed you were Frank and Alice Longbottom, and Sirius Black. The Longbottoms, I told you, spent the rest of their lives in St. Mungo's, insane. That's what Lestrange was sent to Azkaban for in the first place."

"Oh," was all Elizabeth could say.

"I suspect that Neville and Hannah took Kate on visits before Frank and Alice died... which would be seven years ago. If you saw these people even once, you'd never forget it—or forgive those responsible." He paused, letting that sink in.

"A few months after Voldemort returned, he used the still-free Death Eaters and Dark creatures to break Azkaban open and release his followers—including Lestrange. That summer, he attempted to use me to get a prophecy, stored in the Department of Mysteries, concerning him and myself. Lestrange was part of that team. Sirius Black, my godfather, went to save me, and Bellatrix killed him."

"Her own cousin?"

"Voldemort killed his father and grandparents." Potter shrugged. "Blood does not always run that thick.

"And while we're talking about Sirius, here's the background I wanted to mention. I never knew about my godfather when I was growing up because Sirius had been sent to Azkaban shortly after Voldemort attacked me. All evidence pointed to him killing twelve Muggles and a wizard named Peter Pettigrew.

"Sirius," Potter said, "was innocent. The murder was carried out _by_ Pettigrew, who framed Sirius. Pettigrew spent the next twelve years in hiding.

"Then Sirius escaped. As far as I know, that remains the only Azkaban escape made with no outside assistance.

"Sirius convinced one of his old school friends of his innocence, and together, they cornered Pettigrew. They would have killed him, but I convinced them not to—and because Pettigrew had led Voldemort to my parents, they felt I had the right to decide his fate. I let him live.

"Pettigrew was held prisoner, but escaped. He sought out Voldemort, and they conceived a plan to return him to his body—which succeeded. Pettigrew spent the rest of his life at Voldemort's side. You'll see him in the memory I'll show you. By the way, Pettigrew bore the nickname Wormtail.

"The second person you'll see is Severus Snape. He used to teach Potions at Hogwarts and was head of Slytherin house. He hated me, because I greatly resembled my father, whom he hated while he was at school. At the end of my sixth year, he killed then-Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. From then on, like the rest of the Death Eaters, he was a fugitive.

"And now," he said, approaching the Pensieve, "it's time to meet those rather unpleasant characters."

They were back in St. Mungo's. Elizabeth looked around and saw Potter sitting in a chair,

staring into the distance. Malfoy paced back and forth.

A small figure appeared in the doorway. Potter immediately jumped up. "Ginny!" he yelled.

The woman was obviously a Weasley, with long, flaming red hair and a freckled face. Potter embraced his wife.

"What's _he_ doing here?" she suddenly demanded, turning to Elizabeth's father. She approached him menacingly. Potter held on to her, suddenly looking very intent. But then, Ginny grabbed her father's shirt and yanked it. And the familiar motion of a Portkey took them.

"Not again," Elizabeth heard Potter mutter. Then a loud _thump_ indicated their arrival.

An enormous fire was burning on a sandy beach.

Six people were lying in piles next to it. Her father, Potter, and Potter's wife, tangled up, and... Elizabeth checked if she was seeing right... no, she was.

The second pile consisted of a tall, red-haired man, and a heavily pregnant, bushy-haired woman. Mike's parents. But what shocked her was that the third person in that pile was also Potter's wife.

"Your aunt wasn't a twin, was she?" she asked Mike, who shook his head.

Then a third Ginny stepped into the light. She was followed by a short, stocky man with dirty white hair and a grin. The man was aiming his wand at Ginny.

"Polyjuice Potion," Mike's father said.

The two fake Ginnys disentangled themselves and stood at either side of the real one. "Take more potion, you idiots," Wormtail ordered. The two fake Ginnys got flasks out from under their robes and took a few gulps each.

A second figure, tall, sallow, with greasy black hair, appeared. "Snape," Potter said.

Snape ignored him, instead raising his wand, lifting all three Ginnys into the air. He put them down after a few spins—obviously to make it difficult for Potter and his friends to know which one was real.

Only at this point did Elizabeth notice that Potter, her father, and Mike's parents were in the same positions as when they had arrived, except for the movements the two fake Ginnys had caused as they untangled themselves. The pose her father, in particular, was stuck with, was rather unnatural. All three Ginnys were now kneeling in front of the fire, but she couldn't determine if one of them was also bound—all were still.

"Do you like this?" Wormtail sneered.

"You just said the words, Wormtail," Snape told him icily. "As if you could make the Teleretin Solution."

"Harry!" Mike's mother yelled. "It's the Lightbinder!"

"Silence!" Snape roared. "Indeed. Very... ironic for the Dark Lord to use something like this."

"What the hell is Voldemort's scheme this time?" Potter demanded.

Snape ignored him again. "When I suggested to you to make other friends than Crabbe or Goyle, this is not what I had in mind, Draco."

"Friends? Us?" Ron Weasley said incredulously.

"What does the Lightbinder do?" Potter asked.

"It binds all people's limbs in the area it lights up," Hermione supplied.

"Silence!" Snape roared again. "The Dark Lord wishes to perform a... special ceremony, which is why you were brought here."

"I am honored," Potter said. "Why don't you keep me and let the others go?"

"Harry!" Ron yelled. "You—"

"This time, it's not just you we need... but there are some... _spares_," he hissed, "among you."

"Hermione!" Potter yelled. "Did you say the Lightbinder binds only _people's_ limbs?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, several things happened at once. Potter and Mike's parents vanished, replaced by a black panther, a brown bear, and a gray ostrich. The animals leaped out of the way of curses Snape and Pettigrew sent towards them. Two Ginnys attempted to hold down a third one, who turned into a hawk. Her father, still bound, apparently couldn't believe his eyes.

Potter, as a panther, leaped at the two fake Ginnys, slicing their faces apart with sharp claws. The real Ginny flew off.

Hermione, in ostrich form, ran to the edge of the water and transformed back into a human. She drew her wand, cast a spell, and an enormous wave rose up out of the ocean and crashed onto the beach, immediately putting out the fire. Her father rolled away and leaped up, wand at the ready.

Mike's father knocked Pettigrew down with his massive bear body, and returned to human form. "_Accio!_" he said, and something flew off Pettigrew towards him. He caught it. "Ginny—"

The hawk landed, and turned into Ginny, who took her wand from her brother.

Elizabeth's father dueled one of the fake Ginnys. "That's for my wife," the Polyjuiced Death Eater snarled, sending a green bolt her father dodged.

Mike's mother exchanged spells with Snape. "Granger," the Death Eater said. "The parrot—" He was knocked down as a curse from the witch got through his shield.

She panted—apparently the spell had taken a lot out of her. Elizabeth's father continued his fight with one Polyjuiced Ginny, while the real one took on the other.

"Get up, Wormtail," Snape hissed. Pettigrew whimpered. Potter and Mike's father approached them, wands raised, covering Hermione.

"He told you to get up," another voice, cold and high, said.

"Stay back," Potter ordered. "Hello, Tom."

Voldemort's reply was a Killing Curse. Potter dodged and threw his own spell at the Dark Lord.

A bond of gold light joined the two wands. Potter tightly held on.

"Not this time, Potter." Voldemort broke the connection.

Elizabeth looked elsewhere. Mike's father had apparently had the full body-bind cast upon him; his wife kept all her focus on Snape once more. Her father and Ginny finally subdued the two Polyjuiced Death Eaters and were standing over them.

"_Crucio_," Snape said, knocking Hermione down. Elizabeth shivered. If a pregnant woman was tortured like that, it often caused problems for both her and the baby. She looked at Mike, whose face was almost white.

Both Ginny and her father ran towards Hermione, but they were too far away. But at this point, Wormtail, still lying on the ground, raised his wand and pointed it at Snape.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" he yelled.

Even before the green bolt hit Snape, another one was on the way, cast by Voldemort. Wormtail fell a fraction of a second after the other Death Eater. But this cost the Dark Lord. Potter managed to make the wands connect once again.

"_Finite Incantatem_," Elizabeth's father said, lifting the bind off Mike's father. Ron immediately ran up to help his wife.

"For God's sake, Ron, get her out of here!" Potter shouted. Privately, Elizabeth had to agree. Hermione looked almost as bad as her mother had when her father and Potter found her.

Mike's parents Apparated away. Potter kept pushing the wand connection with Voldemort.

Ginny ran towards him. "Ginny, don't!" Potter yelled.

But his wife ignored him. Instead, she lifted her wand.

"_Portalmus!_" she yelled.

A ball of white light surrounded Voldemort, who screamed something unintelligible. Potter, exhausted, dropped to the ground, nearly collapsing.

"Enjoying yourself, Tom?" Ginny taunted the Dark Lord. The white light bubble shrank. "That spell can be resisted, of course... unfortunately for you, you need a _complete soul_ for that."

At that, Potter jumped up. "Ginny, no!"

The white bubble flashed red for a moment, and something knocked Ginny down.

"Oh, no..." Potter whispered. "No! NOT GINNY! _Expelliarmus!_"

Ginny's wand flew out of her hand as she was raising it. She looked different than before. Cruel. Her eyes appeared to glow.

Potter grabbed her, and she tried to wrestle away. But he held even tighter, forced their mouths together, and kissed her. "Fight him, Ginny," he whispered before resuming the kiss.

Suddenly, Ginny slumped in Potter's arms, bringing them both to the ground. "He's... gone?" she whispered.

"Gone," Harry replied. He touched his scar. "Doesn't hurt anymore."

"I love you," she whispered before her eyes closed.

"I love you too, Ginny," Potter said. "Draco!" he shouted. "I'm not strong enough to Apparate! Get us to St. Mungo's!"

Her father nodded, grabbed both of them, and Disapparated. Left behind was a burned out body of Voldemort, and four Death Eaters—two bound, and two dead.

The Pensieve reverted. Potter looked much older than he was, and didn't even appear to notice them. "I'm sorry, Ginny," he whispered.

"Sir?" Elizabeth touched him on the shoulder.

"Oh?" Potter returned to his usual self. "Sorry about that, Miss Malfoy. I got caught up."

"I under—"

"No." Potter rose and turned to them. "You don't understand. For your sakes, I hope you never do."

There was no point in arguing. For some time, the room was quiet.

Mike interrupted. "My parents never told me they were Animagi," he said.

"They didn't register till after the war—we thought it was stupid to tip Voldemort off. And I doubt they use it much nowadays. For one thing—" and Potter cracked a smile for the first time since they entered the Pensieve "—your mother never liked her form. Her reaction to finding out what it was, and I quote, 'I've never, and will never, hide my head in the sand!' Which is true enough. But we know little of how Animagus forms are determined. The sample size is too small. People usually think the animal fits the personality, and while it's true sometimes, surprises happen. Your parents often said that Ginny and I got each other's forms by mistake." Potter had gone gray again.

He turned to Elizabeth. "Your mother had given birth to you, and died, before we got back."

Elizabeth nodded, shaking. Despite knowing this already, seeing what her father was doing at the time brought a new awareness for some reason. Mike gently grasped her shoulders, steadying her.

"Who was the last person to see her alive?" she asked.

"Hannah Longbottom," Potter replied. "Would you like to—"

"I'll think about it."

Potter nodded, but didn't comment. "The story with Ginny is a bit more complex," he said. "When we Apparated to St. Mungo's, she was still alive, and apparently unhurt, despite Voldemort's possession.

"The Soulbinder spell is difficult to do, and takes a lot of power," he said. "That was one reason Voldemort chose, as a last chance of survival, to possess Ginny, as opposed to your father or myself. At that moment, she was the weakest of the three."

"There were other reasons?" Mike asked.

"Yes. He had already possessed her when she was only eleven. That left her doubly vulnerable."

"My parents never told me about that."

"I understand." Potter then continued. "Voldemort didn't understand love, and was vulnerable to it. It was her love for me that enabled her, even in her weakened state, to resist. That alone wasn't enough, but I added my strength... and we managed to purge Voldemort—permanently.

"Never underestimate the power of love," Potter said.

"But then," Elizabeth said, confused, "what happened? Why did—"

"The first time Ginny was possessed, I destroyed the object Voldemort used to do it. The energy Voldemort sapped from her returned to her body, and she awoke, unhurt—physically, that is."

"This time, there was no such object. Voldemort's soul gradually dissipated... and so did the life force he took from Ginny. It wasn't complete... but it was enough. It sapped part of me, too, but I was lucky—or maybe not. No matter what I or the Healers tried... she simply didn't have enough strength to recover." He lowered his head again. Elizabeth didn't need to ask if Potter missed his wife.

"Sir," Mike said, "you didn't want to relive these events. So why—"

"Why did I show them to you?"

Mike nodded.

"Good question. Because there will someday be another war, and I wanted to impress the realities of it. And to do my best to delay it as much as possible."

"How does this help?" Elizabeth asked.

"Pansy and Ginny died that day. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, it's as simple as that. They were not weak, or incompetent, or stupid, or bad people who 'deserved' it. It could have been your father—" he turned to Mike "—or your parents, or myself, or a number of other people. I don't like to play the _what if_ game, because we simply don't know what could happen if things turned out differently."

He paused. "Abstractly, we all recognize the reality of war. Sometimes we need to fight. Sometimes we have to die. And sometimes—" he scrutinized both of them very carefully "—we have to kill. But the moment we begin to see anything noble and glorious in that, we've assured ourselves another war in the future.

"I think we should wait at least a month for our next session—it deals with more stuff that, as you put it," he told Mike, "I don't want to relive." He sighed. "Goodnight."

They left the classroom. "Oh, Dad," Elizabeth whispered.

"What?" Mike asked.

"My father. He always regretted not being at my mother's side when she died."

"Oh. I'm sorry—"

"You weren't even born. What? You weren't. Your birthday is what, one day after mine?"

"If the time is right—if you were born during that battle—it's a day and a half."

"Good, Weasley. Your ego would be even bigger than it already is if you turned out to be older than me."

"Hey—"

"You walked right into that one. All right. Potter said the next time will be our last. That sounds nice. We do have a task to prepare for."

"Speaking of which, have you—"

"Oh, all right. It'll start more rumors, of course, but—"

"Do you care?"

"No, of course not."

"Then it's settled."

"Now, one moment, Weasley. I didn't—"

"But I thought—"

She shook her head. "Too easy, Weasley." She kissed him. "Goodnight, _honey_," she whispered before heading into the Slytherin common room.

"Goodnight," Mike said, and smiled despite the fact that no one, and certainly not Elizabeth, heard him.


	35. Two Lessons

**Chapter 35. Two Lessons.**

Elizabeth entered the prefects' bathroom, somewhat afraid. Not that she thought Mike would do anything untoward—or that she'd let him—but still...

She removed her robes, but did not undress completely. The place was dark and quiet. She took a breath and slipped into the pool.

She expected to find a dry bottom, but to her shock, the pool was already full of warm water. She fell in, ungracefully.

Standing in the water, she reached for her wand, so she could light the candles. But then a pair of hands covered her eyes—although it didn't make much difference in the dark.

"Guess who?" Mike whispered.

"Weasley, where were you?" Elizabeth demanded. "There's no place to hide here."

"I could lie and tell you I've got an Invisibility Cloak," he said.

"Weasley, turn on the light, I want to see you."

"Do you?" he asked.

"Shut up," she said, secretly glad that he couldn't see her blush. "Just—"

"Okay, okay." The candles lit up. Mike laid his wand on the floor next to him and grinned. "And you're quite wrong. There is a place you can hide here."

"Where?" Elizabeth demanded.

"In the water."

"In the—"

Instead of replying, Mike took his wand and dropped beneath the surface. He then activated the Bubble-Head Charm, stretched himself out underwater, placed his wand to the bubble, and shrunk it so it just covered his nose. Then he muttered another spell—a group of bubbles emerged from his mouth—and the bubble extended into a long, thin pipe, opening up at the surface. Mike took in a deep breath.

He then ended the spell and came back up. "Something I learned to do last year," he said. "Can stay underwater indefinitely. Well, not indefinitely," he corrected himself. "But it won't be lack of air that's the problem, it'll be lack of food."

"Show-off," Elizabeth muttered, but she was pleased.

"Well," Mike said, either not hearing, or pretending not to hear her, "we'd better get started. Even if the third task doesn't involve water, it's very useful. How come you never learned to swim?"

"Just... never got to it, I guess. Why?" she demanded, catching his stare.

"Your father... trains you as an expert fencer... and doesn't teach you to swim?"

"I am not an 'expert' fencer. That's for one. And swimming... it's just something we never considered. The scariest moment in my life—"

"What?"

"When I found out what the first task was," she said.

"Come on," he said. He got out and pointed his wand at the pool. "_Circulato._" Elizabeth felt a current form around her.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"To help you learn to swim, of course," he replied, jumping back into the pool. "Try to move against the current."

Elizabeth took a few steps in water that was up to her neck. "It's difficult," she said.

"Now, don't fight it," he said. And he lifted her up, supporting her lying on the surface with his arms.

"I probably look really stupid right now," she said.

"Forget how you look. Just move your arms and legs as if you were swimming."

Elizabeth did so. She supposed it'd help her learn, but she certainly couldn't have kept with the swimming motion if Mike let go. When he did, she immediately panicked and sank. Mike lifted her.

"Elizabeth," Mike said, "you're trying too hard. Swimming is a process, not a goal."

"How old were you when you learned?"

"Three," he answered. "So?"

"So, it's difficult."

"It's also difficult to learn new spells. You seem to have no problem with that—well, except for Transfiguration."

"Ha, ha. If you think the job I did on Goyle will stick with me for the rest of my life—"

"It will. Unless you do something spectacular to cancel it out."

"Swimming lessons with you are one thing, but Transfiguration—"

"You know something?" Mike said thoughtfully as he sat on the edge of the pool. "I think we'll end the lesson tonight and continue next week... on the lake."

"What?!" Elizabeth shouted, and her voice echoed loudly. "No, Weasley. No."

"And what are you going to do about it?" he asked, splashing her.

Elizabeth moved towards him and pulled her wand out. "This," she said, and pulled him into the water, casting a spell at the same time. They kissed. "I do know how to do a Bubble-Head Charm," she whispered before they locked lips underwater again.

XXX

Just don't do the Goyle and Nott on us, okay?" Nadine told Elizabeth.

"We won't."

"In that case, I hope you don't mind if I sit with Longbottom."

Elizabeth was surprised—even one pair of Gryffindor and Slytherin students sitting together in class was bound to be talked about. Two in one class...

"Sure," she said, as she headed for Mike's desk.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey yourself."

Before she could say anything else, Potter strode into the classroom. "Good morning, everyone. Today, you will be practicing the _Avada Kedavra_curse on each other."

The entire class fell silent at that pronouncement. _All right, Potter's gone nuts,_ Elizabeth decided.

"Uhm... sir?" a Gryffindor boy said. "Did—"

"Sir, that's not funny," David Jordan interrupted.

"Not—" someone said.

"OH," a collective sigh came from the class as they realized that today was April 1.

"Sir?" Jordan tried again, but Potter gestured to him.

"It wasn't meant to be funny," he said. "Ten points to Gryffindor, Mr. Jordan, for realizing it and speaking up."

"Now, everyone, close your eyes. _Everyone,_" Potter said.

Elizabeth did so. "Those of you who believed me, raise your hands."

Elizabeth raised hers.

"Thank you," Potter said. "You may open your eyes."

"Most of you _did _believe me. Why?"

"What?" Kate Longbottom blurted out.

"Why?" Potter repeated. "You know who I am, you know I'd never teach you how to perform Unforgivables, much less on each other. And yet, in the entire class, only two people refused to believe me. Why?"

"Uhm..."

"Go ahead, Miss Zabini."

"Because you're a teacher, sir."

"Bingo," Potter replied. "Ten points to Slytherin. More precisely, I am an _authority figure_. You've gotten used to doing what I tell you to. And that is why I am dangerous."

"I don't understand, sir," Elizabeth said.

"_I_ will never ask you to do something like that," Potter said. "But you have—and will have—other authority figures, and one of them might. And then... what are you going to do?"

The interruption came from Patricia Nott. "What does that have to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Everything, Miss Nott. Do you think Voldemort announced his intention to become the greatest Dark wizard in history and had people flock to him? No. He had a dedicated group of followers, and he established himself as an authority figure for them as early as their own school days. And then his demands on them progressively escalated, but for most, it was already too late to get out. Also, there were those—in the Ministry, mostly, but certainly not just there—who were willing to fight Voldemort his way—killing, torturing, manipulating. They managed quite a bit of that, too, and innocent people got caught in it. And they could because the Ministry had people willing to obey an _authority figure—_the Minister or someone just below—in anything. That's why the two Voldemort wars are not remembered as the Ministry's best times—although they might have been. Authority figures can change, they can be impersonated, they can be put under the Imperius Curse, and they can be just plain wrong! Without dedicated followers, Voldemort would have been rather insignificant—no matter how powerful he was on his own. Another Voldemort is inevitable, another army of Death Eaters is not. Always make sure you are allowed to disagree with your authority figures. If you aren't, it's time to start."

The bell rang. Elizabeth and Mike stayed behind. "Sir, when—"

"Do you think you're ready?" he asked them.

They nodded. "Is it bad?"

"You could say that," Potter replied. "Saturday night at eight. It isn't pretty, that's for sure."


	36. The Aftermath of War

**Chapter 36. The Aftermath of War.**

"So, do you think Potter's right?"

"About what?"

"About that big speech on authorities."

"I guess so... I mean, he and my parents, during the war, operated entirely outside the Ministry structure."

"But is that the only reason why? The Ministry was also thought to leak like a sieve."

"True. But I've noticed something else."

"What?"

"Potter almost always attaches specific individuals to specific deeds. But he refers to the Ministry collectively."

"That's interesting, but then, it could be a coincidence. I'm not going to base conclusion on something like that."

"Oh, you're no fun."

"Fun? You think taking obscure details about a person and speculating on their motivations is _fun_?"

"Well... yes!"

She shook her head. "I'll never understand you, Weasley."

Potter entered the room. "Good evening," he said grimly. "Shall we?" By his tone, he was making it clear that no questions would be tolerated.

He got out the Pensieve, and, before they approached close enough to enter, stopped them. "This is after you were born, Miss Malfoy. Your mother was dead, and your father... went nearly mad with grief. And then... well, you'll see."

As Mike looked into the Pensieve, he found himself once again in St. Mungo's. His parents and Potter were the only two people in the room. His mother, pale and red-eyed from lack of sleep, sat in a chair, shaking. His father held her hand, as he whispered, "It'll be all right, Hermione. It'll be all right." Potter paced the room.

A door opened, and Hannah Longbottom entered. She looked even more tired than his mother, with her blonde hair a terrible mess and bags under her eyes. The three friends rushed to her.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice a barely audible whisper.

"Ginny isn't—" Potter asked.

Hannah nodded. "There was nothing we could do."

His mother fell, with neither his father nor Potter reaching quick enough. "Ginny!" Potter whispered. "Oh, Ginny."

"Hermione," his father said in a hollow voice. His tears fell on her face and mixed with hers. He looked at Hannah. "We should have gone to the maternity ward—"

"I needed to know, Ron," she sobbed.

"Ginny..." Potter kept repeating, as if in prayer. "Ginny..."

As Hannah led his mother away, his father turned to Potter. "This is all your fault," he said.

Potter turned and met his father's fist with his face. He was too shocked to react.

"That was for my sister. If you hadn't gone to rescue Malfoy's slut, she'd be alive!"

"What?"

"You heard me. Why'd you marry her, anyway? 'Cause you couldn't get in a shag otherwise?

"In fact, you've been nothing but trouble for my entire family. All my injuries, Ginny's possession, Percy's estrangement, Dad's bite, Mum's madness, Charlie's death—"

"Go take care of your wife, Ron," Potter snapped. "Unlike me, you've got one."

"You're not the one to give out that kind of advice, Potter. Go be bosom buddies with Malfoy and his offspring. If the little brat is even his. From—" Potter Disapparated.

The scenery changed. Elizabeth's father, Draco Malfoy, was pounding on the wall.

"Pansy!" he shouted.

Potter opened the door and entered.

Malfoy turned. "You! What the hell are—"

Potter wordlessly held up the _Daily Prophet_. October 19th, 2002. HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED DEFEATED!blared the cover story.

"Are you mocking me, Potter?"

"No. But soon, we'll be the only two people in wizarding Britain who won't be celebrating."

"Of course _I_ won't. Pansy died! Do you understand how that feels, Potter?" Malfoy shook his fists and approached him.

"I'm afraid I do, Draco. All too well."

"You don't mean—" The statement seemed to deflate him.

Potter nodded. "Ginny's dead."

That shocked Malfoy. "Harry?" he said.

Potter lowered himself into a chair. "How can you live?"

"How can you?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure I want to. Ginny's dead, Ron blames me for it—"

"What?"

"We fought. He blamed me. He said... well, he said many things, but one of them was that Ginny would be still alive if we hadn't gone after Pansy. He may even be right." He slumped.

"I hate this," Malfoy said. "I've got a daughter, and—"

"She needs you, Draco. Even if we—"

"Don't mention that to me!"

"All right. I won't. For now. But Elizabeth needs you. And I need a purpose in life."

"I'll grant that, Potter."

"Thank you, Draco." Potter stopped and looked up. "Good-bye, Ginny," he said.

"Good-bye, Pansy," Malfoy echoed.

And the Pensieve scene ended. Potter put away the stone bowl and looked at them. "I tried to make things up with your father," he told Mike. "Eventually, he almost welcomed me back. But he wanted me to admit that Ginny would certainly have lived if I hadn't gone after Pansy, and to break off my new friendship with—" he turned to Elizabeth "—_your_ father. I didn't do the first because it wasn't true, and the second because I never sold out one friend to get in favor with another. So we were stuck with this.

"We sent each other friendly, polite letters for some time," he said. "But that ended when I met Stephanie. Your father accused me of betraying Ginny, and of wanting to replace her. He didn't come to our wedding, despite being sent an invitation. That's when we stopped contact, until this year."

He led them out of his office. "Feel free to judge me," he said. "I certainly made my share of mistakes over the years. You asked—" he looked at Mike "—why your parents and I are no longer best friends. Well, there is your answer. Voldemort took away someone we all loved, and we grieved in different and incompatible ways." With that, he dismissed them.

As Mike and Elizabeth walked down the corridor, arms around each other's shoulders, they didn't speak. Mike felt Elizabeth getting tense as they approached the entrance to the Slytherin common room. As she prepared to leave, she looked at him. "What are you thinking about?"

"How do you know I'm thinking?"

"Oh? You're not?"

"I'm thinking about how to get my parents and Potter back together."

"What?"

"Look, I get the feeling they miss him even from letters. Potter certainly misses them. They just—"

"Mike—"

"What? You don't like the idea?"

"I don't care, but my father probably wouldn't. And why don't we get through the Tournament first, okay? Goodnight, Mike."

"Goodnight, Elizabeth." Mike continued thinking as he headed to his dorm. He didn't even have a vague plan of how to accomplish the goal. Fortunately, while neither he nor Elizabeth was good at such things, he knew someone who was. Katherine Alice Longbottom.


	37. New and Old

**Chapter 37. New and Old.**

"Morning, Kate," Mike said the next day at breakfast.

"Hey, Mike," she said with a grin. "I've got some news."

"What?"

"Nadine and I are... together."

Mike smiled. "I'm happy for you, Kate."

She frowned. "Elizabeth doesn't know."

"Why not? Isn't she Nadine's best friend?"

"Well, yes... but she doesn't know anything. I wouldn't tell you if..."

"I understand. I don't go blabbing people's secrets around."

"Even to your girlfriend?"

"Even to my girlfriend. But this may not be a very good idea. You will be discovered sooner or later; it's impossible to keep a secret in this place."

She shrugged. "Thanks, Mike. We'll try to stay discreet."

"Sure. Say, Kate, can I ask you for an idea?"

"Okay..."

He told her what he'd seen last night in Potter's office. "So, do you have any idea how to do this?" he asked.

"Let me think," Kate said. She paused for a few moments. "Unfortunately, no. Not at the minute."

"Why not?"

"You need to get them to talk about something. Something important to both of them. And I don't know either of them well enough to know what that might be. Until we know, even forcing them in the same room is pointless."

Mike nodded. "I'll try to think of something. My parents will be here for the third task, so it'll be a perfect opportunity—" He broke off. "Morning, Dave."

"Hey. An opportunity for what?"

Mike told him. "Quite a long shot, I think."

"Hey, when Elizabeth and I started dating, I began to believe anything is possible."

"Speaking of which, what were you and Elizabeth doing in the Prefects' bathroom?"

"Mike!" Kate looked shocked. "You didn't tell us this?"

"Nothing is going on. I'm just giving her swimming lessons."

"Is that what they're calling it now?"

"Shut up. You've never been inside the Prefects' bathroom, have you? Why don't you ask _Laura_ for a tour?"

Dave nearly choked. "I did," he whispered. "Laura is a stickler for rules; she refused because I'm not a Prefect."

"Well, try again," Mike suggested. "They might have us in the lake again during the third task, so we decided she should learn."

"Whatever, Mike," Dave said, laughing. "Whatever."

"See you around," Mike said as he got up.

"Going to give your girlfriend another _swimming lesson_?"

"Kate, how do you pull his mind out of the gutter?"

"Sorry, Mike, I'm afraid that's one thing that's _not_ possible."

"Agreed," Mike said. "He's hopeless."

XXX

As a matter of fact, Mike did give Elizabeth another swimming lesson that night. "You're getting better," he said, truthfully. "Pretty soon, you'll be as good as I am."

"You're just saying this to flatter me."

"Yeah, but it's true," he said, and kissed her. "Come on."

They left the Prefects' bathroom and headed down to the bottom of the castle.

On the second floor, Mike suddenly grabbed Elizabeth and pushed her into a side corridor.

"What're you—"

"Shh! Filch!"

The caretaker was patrolling the halls, muttering obscenities. "In here," Mike said, attempting to open the closest door. It was locked.

"_Alohomora!_" he said, swinging the door open, and shutting it behind them.

"I thought you locked the door," Kate's voice said.

"Longbottom?" Elizabeth asked. "_Lumos._"

And they saw Kate and Nadine in a tight embrace, close enough for Kate's blonde tresses to intertwine with Nadine's black curls.

"What is going on here?" Elizabeth demanded.

"I think it's obvious," Nadine said.

"You've been _snogging_ each other?"

"Well, Malfoy," Kate interjected, "that's what people who date often do. You should know." She nodded towards them. "Hi, Mike."

"Date? _Date_? But..."

"But what?" Nadine demanded. "Kate's a woman?"

"Since when do you call her Kate?"

"You used to call him 'Weasley'," Nadine pointed out. "I don't see how whom I date is any of your business any more than who you date is any of mine."

"It's not, but—"

"But only if it's a guy, right?"

"Uhm..."

"I told you you'd be discovered," Mike told Kate. "I just didn't think it'd be this soon."

Elizabeth turned to him. "You knew? You knew about this? When?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it does, Weasley!"

"I knew Kate liked Nadine at the Yule Ball. I found out they'd got together this morning."

"And you didn't tell me."

"Kate asked me not to. I don't reveal secrets entrusted to me."

"But this is important!"

"Most secrets are, that's why they're secrets. Look at this calmly, Eliza—"

"Calmly? Calmly?! I've been spending six years in a room next to a dyke and—"

"Excuse me." Nadine narrowed her eyes. "What did you just call me?"

"A—"

Nadine drew her wand, and sent something at Elizabeth, who hastily threw up a shield, and launched a curse of her own.

"Stop!" Mike yelled, blocking Elizabeth's spell and stopping in front of her. "Don't do anything you might later regret."

"I am not," she answered, not looking at Kate or Nadine. "Did you encourage them to get together? Did you think you could get off watching them?"

"Elizabeth, you're talking nonsense, and you know that."

"Nonsense? I'll tell you what's really nonsense! That anything good might have come out of this! How could I have been so stupid?"

"What're you—"

"It's over between us! It's over! Find someone else! Maybe _they'_ll let you join!" A yellow bolt emerged out of Elizabeth's wand and hit him square in the chest. Mike dropped. It was like being punched in the solar plexus. Elizabeth ran out of the room.

Kate helped Mike up. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I guess. Except for the fact that my girlfriend just left me."

"Sorry, Mike. This is—"

"It's not your fault."

"But—"

"I told you you'd be discovered eventually, Kate. I hate being right sometimes."

"I'll try to reason with Malfoy," Nadine said, preparing to leave.

"Good luck with that," Mike said. "You saw how she listens to reason yourself."

"I have to try. Sorry for my behavior at the Ball, Weasley. I was—"

"Jealous, I know."

"Take care of your best friend, Kate," Nadine said. "And I'll see what I can do about mine." She gave Kate a peck on the lips and left.

"Mike, I'm—"

"I don't regret supporting you, Kate. If Elizabeth has a problem with this, that's just it—_her problem_. I am not willing to give up your friendship to keep her as a girlfriend."

Kate smiled at him. "I just..."

"Wish everything was simple? So do I, Kate. Funny. This morning, we were talking about a reunion scheme for Potter and my parents. Now, it looks like I'll need one myself."

"I'll help you with both of them. But yours is simpler. You still have the tournament—you'll have to talk to each other."

"Yeah... Damn, the third task just got a hell of a lot harder for us."

Even as he said it, Mike knew it was an understatement.


	38. Author's note

To my readers:

I'm extremely sorry I haven't been updating, and even sorrier that this isn't an update either. However, first, I was busy, and then, for some reason, my beta reader has stopped replying to my emails. I hope nothing serious has happened to her, but I've sent numerous reminders over the past few months, and got nothing.

If any of my readers would like to beta read the remaining eight chapters of the story (mostly for spelling, grammar, and typing errors), I'd greatly appreciate it. Leave a review, PM, or email me if you're willing to do that. Thanks.

Hope to resume soon,

James Knight, a.k.a. jedi-from-mordor


	39. Advice and Surprises

**Chapter 38. Advice and Surprises.**

The next morning, Elizabeth sat alone at the breakfast table, thinking. Nadine was a lesbian—and Mike simply accepted that 'relationship' between his and her best friends. No, her father was right. The Weasleys were not proper wizards. And that she had ever thought otherwise...

An owl dropped a letter in front of her. She took it automatically. It was very short and to the point.

_Miss Malfoy:_

_Please come to my office this afternoon. Don't worry, Mr. Weasley will not be there._

_Professor Harry Potter._

She took it. Potter _was_ her father's friend. Elizabeth would go.

At three in the afternoon, after Charms, she made it to Potter's office. She entered as soon as a class of third years had left.

"Sit down, Miss Malfoy," Potter said. "I've heard you ended your relationship with Mr. Weasley."

"Sir, what's it to you? None of the—"

"Miss Malfoy, I only have a simple question. Can you work together with Mr. Weasley on the third task after what happened?"

Elizabeth should have expected that. "Yes, sir," she said, more certain than she felt.

"We'll see."

"Sir, we cooperated in the—"

"I've seen that 'cooperation'," Potter said. "Believe me, cooperating with someone you hate is easier than with someone you used to like. You will be briefed on the third task in one week's time. Also, your father wants to see you the day before. He'll be here at eight in the evening. In the meanwhile, think carefully about what I asked you. I don't care what you answered me, but please, for your sake, answer my question honestly for yourself."

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"What if the answer is no?"

"Then, the way I see it, you only have two options. One, patch things up with Mr. Weasley, and two, resign the Hogwarts team to the last place in the Tournament. Good day, Miss Malfoy," he dismissed her.

Elizabeth moved to leave the office. As soon as she opened the door, she ran into Mike. They turned away from each other as Mike entered.

Elizabeth was now more confused than ever. Of course it made sense for Potter to talk to Weasley, as well as her. But she couldn't forget that Potter all but told her to 'patch things up'. That wasn't going to happen, but Weasley might try. And that wouldn't be good. She also had no idea what her father might want. He had never come to see her during school before this. She hoped it wasn't because he had heard about the relationship. If it was, she could tell them they broke up, but he would still be angry at her. Some people felt better after a break-up. She wasn't one of them. At least, not concerning this break-up.

XXX

"What did you and Professor Potter talk about?" Kate asked Mike that night.

"You and Nadine," he grunted.

"What?!"

"And how that ended my relationship with Elizabeth," he added.

"Hey, it's not my fault your girlfriend—"

"_Ex-_girlfriend," he corrected.

"Mike..."

"Well, Potter said I'd have to put it all aside and cooperate with her for the task. That won't be easy..." He paused. "I was right, you know. I said it, the night our names came out of the Goblet. Hogwarts is going to lose this tournament."

"You haven't lost yet," Kate said. "And I'm sure you'll be able to work together well enough to—"

"How?"

"Didn't Potter give any suggestions?"

"I... he brought up how my parents have been arguing since they met. And how, when..."

"When what?"

"When he tried to rescue Elizabeth's mother... and Aunt Ginny died—"

"He blames himself?"

"I would. I also told him, that considering what happened between him and Dad as a result, I shouldn't get my hopes up regarding Elizabeth."

"You still want to date her?"

"Yes," he said. "I really don't know why—she's pretty, sure, but..."

"You're in love—"

"Shut up," he said automatically. Then her words hit him and he exploded in laughter. "In—love—with—her—don't—be—"

"Okay, you're not in love. But you still want to date her."

"Well, that's going to be a big effort. How am I supposed to convince her? How am I supposed to try,

if she won't even talk to me?"

"So you're giving up—"

"No."

"Mike, are you all right?"

"You know, that's what I said to Potter. That he gave up regarding Dad. And he just looked at me and told me he didn't. That's how our meeting ended. I could tell he was angry."

"And..."

"Kate, I'm sorry, but I just don't see how you can help me with this. I can't exactly ask you to break up with Nadine so that—"

"And if you did, I wouldn't do it."

"I know."

"But I think I can still help. Nadine's Elizabeth's best friend—"

"Was."

"Oh, she's as stubborn as you are."

"Elizabeth or Nadine?"

"Both. Goodnight, Mike." She went upstairs to the girls' dorm. Mike stayed in the common room, staring into the fire. Potter may have made things sound simple—he should try to at least get Elizabeth's friendship back before the third task. But...

But if it meant destroying either his friendship with Kate or Kate's relationship with Nadine to restore his own, he wouldn't do it. He knew Elizabeth well enough to doubt that she would apologize and come back. It _was_ over between them. They wouldn't need to talk again once the third task was done.

Mike was certain about all that. None of it made him happy, and he couldn't tell why. He thought about what Kate said. _In love? Bullshit. Maybe I should check what kind of potions Kate's been taking..._ Things like that just didn't happen in real life.

XXX

The following week was the loneliest Elizabeth had ever had. Neither Mike nor Nadine spoke to her, and Nadine sat demonstratively next to Kate Longbottom in every Defense class. Mike had gone to sharing a desk with David Jordan. Elizabeth surmised, based on certain looks she saw passing between Jordan and Kate, that Jordan had been let in on the not-so-secret secret. She didn't know what he thought about it, but he continued to hang around his friends.

On Sunday night, she left the Slytherin common room and headed for the empty Defense classroom. She encountered no one except Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost. He gave her t he cold shoulder—if that expression was appropriate in this case. Elizabeth didn't break her stride until she was in relative safety.

"Dad!" she shouted as soon as she got inside, and hugged her father.

He smiled. "Hello, dear. How's the tournament? Weasley giving you trouble?"

"No, we're doing fine," she lied. "Why'd you come here?"

"What, am I not allowed to see my favorite daughter?"

"Dad, I'm your only daughter."

"Well, I'm here to tell you something about you. Professor Potter gave you some history lessons, I take it?"

"Yes, he has," Elizabeth said.

"The reason should become clear to you soon. Your godfather and I decided it's time you knew this. You are of age, you will leave school soon... and it's dangerous to go out into the world without knowing this. At least, that's what your godfather says."

"Will he be here? Will I meet him?" she asked excitedly. She certainly didn't expect this. "I never got to give him any presents, and he always gives very good stuff. We—I wouldn't get through the last task without what I got for Christmas."

"So I take it. But to answer your question, yes, he'll be here, and you've already met him."

"What? How?"

"You didn't know it was him, but you've met him," he said.

"No more games, Dad. Who's my godfather?"

A door opened between the office and the classroom and Professor Potter stepped out. "I am," he said.


	40. Family Matters

**Chapter 39. Family Matters.**

"Always a show-off, Potter," her father said disapprovingly.

"Good evening, Draco," Potter said. "Hello, Elizabeth."

"You?" was all she managed to get out. "Why?"

"A number of reasons. One of them is that I was the only one your father trusted after the death of Pansy."

"Because you—"

Potter nodded. "Because I understood exactly what he was going through. Blaise Zabini could have formed a third member of the group, but he chose to blame me."

"I never told you this, Elizabeth, but you look just like your mother, except for the hair color," her father said.

"Uhm... thanks, Dad." Elizabeth couldn't think of anything else to say. This was simply too much information.

"Come in." Potter motioned them into this office. "Let's have a drink."

"Elizabeth—" her father began.

"—is an adult, Draco, as I have pointed out to you many times this year," Potter finished. He poured something out of an old bottle into three small goblets.

"To a safe future," he said. They drank.

Her father looked at Potter. "Are you—"

"I've answered that question often enough. I'll tell her. With or without your input!"

Her father looked resigned. "Go ahead."

"It is bad," Potter began, "when you are the subject of a prophecy. I should know that. It is worse still if someone you care about is, as your father is aware. I can't lie to you, Elizabeth. You happen to be in both situations."

"What?" Elizabeth asked, not understanding. Prophecies?

"A prophecy was made, shortly before your birth. It concerned you and a child you'll give birth to."

"But I may not have children!"

"No, you might not," Potter said. "Then the prophecy will go unfulfilled."

"And you want it to be fulfilled? Is that it?"

"Elizabeth, please hear us out before you draw conclusions, otherwise, you'll draw wrong ones!" Potter exclaimed. "As I said, a prophecy was made. When I showed you your mother's rescue in New Mexico, I left a bit out of our encounter with Lavender Brown."

Potter took out the Pensieve and waved his wand over it. A ghostly figure of Lavender appeared.

"What've you done to him?" she shouted, kneeling next to what Elizabeth knew to be Andrew Seward's body. Then, she suddenly straightened and began speaking in a new, melodic tone.

_From those born into a darkness_

_Will come a child of the light._

_The father shall bear witness towards_

_The Dark Lord's passing into night._

_The daughter's own future offspring_

_Shall have the strength to see for good_

_That ancient magic of Poseidon_

_Is opened and understood._

Potter looked up at her. "Prophecies rarely rhyme," he said. "Lavender, though, was always somewhat of a poet, and even if the prophecy is made involuntarily, as it was here, the personality of the Seer is imprinted on it. This was the prophecy, and as the events soon proved, it could have only referred to you, and your child—or children, since the word 'offspring' can be plural."

"What is 'the ancient magic of Poseidon'?"

"We are not sure," Potter admitted, "but we have a good guess. We thought it referred to the secret of Atlantis."

"What? But that's—"

"A legend? Legends tend to have a basis in fact. In this case, there are many legends, some contradictory. I have traveled around the world over the past seventeen years, looking for information about Atlantis and anything connected to it."

"But why? I mean, I may not have children. The prophecy—"

"Legends agree that the magic involved in Atlantis—and we're pretty sure that a place like that existed, even though details may have been misremembered or idealized—was very powerful. Where the power came from is uncertain, but it's not a good idea to let a future Voldemort get access to it. We wanted to reduce that chance, without resorting to barbarism."

"What?"

"Well, Voldemort or a like-minded person would have done one of two things. Either kill you as a baby, to make sure his enemies never wielded that power, or, if he intended to use it himself, he'd seek out your parents, kill them, raise you himself, provide you with a mate of his choice, kill both you and him as soon as the baby was born, and raise that child in his ways. Naturally, neither of us would do even one one-hundredth of this."

Elizabeth sat silent, pondering the pronouncement.

"What does 'born into the darkness' mean?"

"We are not sure. If it just referred to Draco, it could be interpreted that he was born into a family known for practicing Dark magic. The Parkinsons, however, were not such a family, and as you well know, a Parkinson had married into the Bones family, which was never known to be involved in the Dark Arts. So that obvious interpretation is problematic. It could also be taken literally—as I found over the course of my searches, both of your parents were born on moonless nights."

"And why 'for good'?"

"The reason we even know of Atlantis is that some people, both wizards and Muggles, have had encounters with its remnants. So small glimpses were brought out. Some were done so long ago that these sources were forgotten. Freezing charms, and a score of related spells, I am quite certain, have their origin in Atlantis. But there are protections around it, and those that delved too deep most often didn't come back—or were useless if they did. I think I got the farthest, and when the defenses activated, I nearly got killed. That was about eight years ago, if you recall."

"Oh, I recall it perfectly, Potter," her father said. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking it was a good lead," he said. "But you're right. I could only think of two wizards, other than myself, powerful enough to escape that trap—and both of them are dead."

"Who?"

"Care to guess?"

"The Dark Lord," Elizabeth said.

Potter nodded. "Draco, can't—"

"_I_ can't, and—"

"Never mind. Dumbledore is the other. The point is, the magic of Atlantis had not been completely sealed off."

"And my child—"

"Or children," Potter interrupted.

"—or children will open it?"

"They will be able to."

"So what—"

"So what did we do? Well, there is no foolproof way, but the only way to reduce the appeal of the Dark Arts is love."

"Love?"

"That's right. It's very important that you and any children you have are raised in love."

"How do you make sure of that?"

"You can't. But one thing we couldn't afford is something many wizarding families—including the Malfoys—traditionally practiced."

"Arranged marriages." Elizabeth's understood.

"More semi-arranged, as your parents were. No one forced them to, but they were encouraged to see and date each other, and discouraged otherwise.

"Elizabeth, it's very important that you marry, if you do, for love. It's also very important that the father of your children knows about this before he becomes one."

"Are you mad at us?" her father asked. "That we kept you in the dark?"

Elizabeth was surprised. "No, Dad," she answered truthfully enough. "You took a big risk. For all you know, I already—"

"Why do you think I taught you the birth control spell?"

"What if I didn't use it?"

"I trusted you wouldn't forget."

"Thanks, Dad. And he's my godfather—"

"Mostly to make sure that, if something happened to your father—and there were those, immediately after the war, who might have taken retribution on families of known Death Eaters once the hard work was done—you would be raised by someone with full knowledge of the prophecy and what it entails."

"The only people in the world today who know that are in this room."

"That's not quite true, Draco."

"What?"

"Well, one other person knows."

"How?"

"I told her."

"Why?"

"A backup for a backup, and a second pair of eyeballs for research."

"What? Not—"

"Who are you talking about?" Elizabeth demanded.

"Potter, why—"

"I knew you wouldn't approve."

"Of course not! My daughter with that—"

"Care to finish that sentence, Draco?"

"You would have—"

"Who?" Elizabeth shouted.

"Granger," her father said.

"It's Granger-Weasley," Potter corrected.

"That makes it worse," her father replied.

Elizabeth suddenly realized who they were talking about. "You mean—"

"That's right, Elizabeth," Potter said. "Mike's mother."


	41. Preludes

**Chapter 40. Preludes.**

Mike was dreading the briefing for the third task, since he might have to talk to Elizabeth. She had sulked more and and more at the Slytherin table over the course of the week, and hadn't even shown up this morning. Not only was Mike upset at how his own relationship was turning out, but Elizabeth's attitude irritated Nadine, which in turn irritated Kate. He wished nothing more than to go back to the relationship they had had... But that chance was gone forever.

The Quidditch pitch, where the third task was to take place, had been transformed. The champions were waiting, standing next to Padma Patil. Elizabeth didn't give Mike so much as a look. When they all were gathered, Padma began.

"Welcome," she said. "The third task will take place in the afternoon on June the twenty-fifth."

Mike looked at the pitch. A tree, at least twenty feet across at the bottom, grew there, already higher than the Quaffle hoops.

Noting the champions' attention, Padma continued, "It'll grow to five hundred feet by the time the third task comes around. The Triwizard cup will be placed on the top, and there'll be three clearly defined paths up. You'll be able to choose based on the points achieved in the first two tasks. Hogwarts first, then Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang will take the remaining path."

"That's it?" Veronique Rossi asked skeptically. "Just climb a tree?"

"Well, there'll be obstacles," Padma replied. "A few creatures you'll have to deal with, a number of risky choices you'll have to make. And there will be no tricks. Broomsticks and other flying devices are forbidden, and the cup itself will be protected by strong spells that will repel attempts to touch it with anything other than the contestants' bodies. Needless to say, you can't summon it. Any more questions?"

There were none. Mike moved towards Elizabeth, but she seemed to notice and immediately headed back to the castle.

_Dammit,_ Mike thought. _How am I supposed to do something when my partner won't even talk to me?_

Reluctantly, Mike concluded that he had been right the night the Goblet selected him and Elizabeth. Hogwarts would lose this tournament.

XXX

"Shall we have the final match and conclude the club tournament tonight?" Potter asked. Almost everyone cheered.

Elizabeth didn't. She had been dreading this moment. Coming face-to-face with Longbottom. Nadine's _girlfriend_. She still tried to get her mind around the idea.

Kate stepped up. "What's the matter, Malfoy? Afraid?"

"Shut up, Longbottom. You'll pay for taking Nadine away from me." She raised her sword.

Kate took a ready stance. "I took Nadine away?"

"What else to do you call it?" Elizabeth thrust her sword at Kate, who had to step back.

"I call it dating. Something you and Mike did. I didn't complain you took him away from me." She lunged and was blocked.

"I didn't. You still hung around together." Elizabeth made several strikes, but Kate parried all of them.

"Maybe it's because I didn't call him a fan of Dark wizards for dating a Slytherin," Kate said. "Maybe it's because I accepted your relationship." She took another lunge, forcing Elizabeth to block.

"Or maybe," Elizabeth countered, "it's because he never hid it from you. There were no secrets. _Touch__é_." Elizabeth's next strike got through Kate's defenses and scored a point.

Kate frowned and brought her sword back up. "You may be right. But don't you think,"—she thrusted forward, forcing Elizabeth to take a few steps back— "that you went a bit overboard?"

"No! Wouldn't you be disturbed if it was the other way around, if Mike or Jordan were—"

"No!" Kate said firmly. "I wouldn't. Unfortunately, my two best friends are both as heterosexual as they can be." Elizabeth was only half-listening, having to parry several attack in just a few seconds. "I don't see any meaningful difference between the two relationships—other than the fact that right now, Nadine and I have one, and you and Mike... don't. _Touché._" Kate scored.

"And I don't want it," Elizabeth, still mad Kate got through, retorted angrily, before launching a rapid attack. Kate retreated, putting up a series of equally quick blocks.

"Oh, really? Then what would you say if I told you Mike's dating someone else?"

The words hit her, and Kate's next strike nearly skewered Elizabeth. She barely managed to knock the blade away. "Who?" she demanded.

Kate blocked another strike, stepped back, and took a breath. "Why do you care?"

"I don't."

"Uh-huh. In case you wanted to know, it's Patricia Nott." This stunned Elizabeth, and Kate immediately took advantage of it with a successful attack. "_Touché._"

"That was low, Longbottom. I know Nott is still with Goyle." Elizabeth charged ahead, trying to strike back at Kate, who retreated. For a few moments, nothing was said, until Kate finally knocked Elizabeth's sword upward and, before Elizabeth disentangled and brought it back down, waltzed around her. Having forced Kate to the end of the _piste, _she now found herself at that end. Kate looked ready to block any attack.

"Why the anger, then?" she said. "Admit it. You're jealous."

Elizabeth blocked another attack. "You just said it to score." And she launched her own flurry of attacks, again forcing Kate to retreat.

"That's the point—" Kate stopped to block a particularly fierce swing. "By the way, for future reference, I'm the only lesbian involved, you know. Nadine's bi."

Having pushed Kate back into the center of the _piste, _Elizabeth took a deep breath. "And you're telling me this... why?"

"No reason." Elizabeth struck as Kate began her answer.

"_Touché_."

"Oh, good job, Malfoy."

"Next point wins the match."

"I can count, thank you. You know something... I think you may be in denial." She lunged again. Elizabeth parried the strike and launched one of her own.

"What?"

"You aren't into women, are you?" Kate stepped back to block another attack. "If you are, I can tell Mike to stop wasting his time."

"I am not a lesbian!" Elizabeth shouted with her next attack. She half-hoped the scream would distract Kate enough for her to score, but Kate managed the parry. She retreated again and sighed with relief.

"Denial. Classic case of denial." Kate blocked again. "Say, you aren't jealous of _me_, by any chance? Nadine does find you attractive." Kate touched her hair. "She likes blondes. _Touché._"

"What? You can't have—"

"You saw it. I scored. You lost."

"But it was unfair!"

"Why? You let yourself be distracted. You wouldn't if there wasn't some truth to some of it. And like it or not, you'll have to meet with Mike tomorrow, so think carefully."

"You should have been a Slytherin, Longbottom."

"Maybe I should transfer. More time with Nadine." And Kate left before Elizabeth could find a suitable retort.

The match with Longbottom had infuriated her on many levels, starting with the fact that she lost. But coupling that with all the accusations of jealousy and lesbianism... the worst part was that the lesbianism part was the only thing where she could honestly tell herself Kate was wrong.


	42. Towards the Starting Line

**Chapter 41. Towards the Starting Line.**

When, the day before the third task, Mike saw the exam which Potter had put together on the day before the third task, Mike, for the first time, regretted having entered the tournament. After a short essay, Potter led everyone into the Great Hall, where he made students duel against him in groups of four. Mike noticed that he usually picked one student from each house for the groups. Potter won all the duels, of course, but some groups did better than others. When Mike looked across the hall at Elizabeth, he saw from her expression that she would have liked to participate as well.

Mike ate hastily at breakfast next morning, worried about what the tree held in store.

There were only a few hours left, and Mike would have to spend most of them with his family. They were somewhat late in arriving, so he went to the meeting room and watched the Krum twins with their mother and father, whom they greatly resembled; Veronique Rossi and her parents; Fatima Dubois in the company of her very tall mother; and Elizabeth engaged in an animated discussion with her father and... Potter. _What's he doing here?_

"Mike!" his mother called out. He turned and saw her approach, followed by his father and his eleven-year-old sister, Lauren.

"Mike!" she shouted.

"Hey, sis. Miss me?" He hugged her. "Hi, Mum, hi, Dad."

His parents hugged him. "Hello, son," his father said.

"Hi, Mike. Worried?"

"No, Mum," Mike lied.

"Good," his father said. "Malfoy giving you trouble?"

"No," he lied again.

"Ron!" his mother chided, clearly continuing something that was interrupted when they arrived. "You're proud that the only thing he inherited from me is the height?"

"That's not true, Hermione. He also has your talent for Transfiguration."

"It was useful, Mum," Mike said. His mother blushed.

"Thanks," she said, looking around. "This place really sticks with you."

"It's not the place, Hermione. It's the people."

Hermione looked at him.

"Too many people are no longer with us, one way or another," his father muttered. "Dumbledore. Hagrid. Charlie. Ginny. Harry..."

"Ron, we can—"

"Hermione, not—"

"It's okay," Mike said. "Professor Potter told us."

"What?"

"How you stopped being friends."

"His version, you mean," his father said.

"His version is that you never forgave him for Aunt Ginny's death."

Ron stood aback. "What?"

"He showed us—"

"Hermione, is it possible that—"

"I've had no more contact with him after that than you did."

"What? I always thought—"

"I might have, but he told me not to."

"Why not?"

"To save our marriage. The fewer secrets between us the better. His words, not mine," she said. "I still have that last letter."

"'Mione?"

"What?"

"And you didn't try—"

"It'd be about as effective as telling him not to go fight Voldemort after Dumbledore's death. He had hidden himself so well that I had no clue where he was until this year."

"Well, I better talk to him tonight."

"Ron are you sure—"

"I have to, 'Mione."

"Then I'm coming with you. I've waited too long."

"Mike!" Kate ran up. "Oh, I'm sorry. But it's starting."

"Hi, Kate," Ron said.

"Hello, Katherine."

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley. Mike, I'm sorry, but Professor McGonagall told me to send for you already."

"Oh," Mike said.

"Good luck, son," Ron said.

"Stay safe." Hermione kissed him on the cheek.

Mike nodded and ran down the stairs.

"By the way, Mike," Kate said. "You should try to be a bit open to Elizabeth."

"Why? She—"

"We've had a little chat in fencing club. If it didn't get her thinking, she doesn't deserve you."

"What?"

"I've wielded the stick on your behalf, Mike. You'll have to provide the carrot."

"Where's Nadine?"

"In the audience. I'll join her in a moment. Good luck, Mike." She kissed him.

"Mike!" the voice of David Jordan boomed.

"Hey, Dave!"

"Though I'd not come to see you off?"

"Hey, Mike," Laura Whittle greeted him.

"Well, go get them," Dave half-ordered. "Malfoy or not, you're still miles beyond the competition. And you get to choose first."

"That might cause a problem," Mike said. "I've got to go. Thanks."

Dave hit him on the shoulder. "You're the school champion, you get out of exams, you'll win a thousand Galleons—what's there to worry about? Just go, before they start without you!" Dave nearly pushed him out towards the pitch.

Mike smiled, despite his misgivings. At least, while not being pleased with his partner, this time around, unlike in the first task, he intimately knew her strengths and weaknesses. He could pull through.

XXX

Elizabeth met Mike outside the pitch and headed towards the starting area in silence. Mike spoke first.

"How come Potter was at the families' meeting with you?" he asked.

"None of your business, Weasley."

"Elizabeth, we're supposed to be partners. It wasn't my secret to reveal."

"Whatever, Weasley," she said.

"Are you happy?" he asked.

"What? Why are you asking me—"

"Are you happy? You don't have much company these days."

"You've been watching me, Weasley?"

"It doesn't take much watching," he said. "Don't you regret it?"

"No," Elizabeth replied, making an effort to sound certain. The truth was, she missed both Nadine and Mike. However, she hadn't yet lost all her dignity and wasn't going to beg them to accept her again. Of course, this was a problem.

"Please give a welcome to the third task for the championship teams of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang!" the voice of David's father exploded. "The Triwizard Cup has been placed on the top of this large Graht Tree, over six hundred feet from the ground. The tree is full of dangerous obstacles, which our contestants will have to deal with while risking a plummet!"

The tree had grown substantially since the briefing, and was now almost a hundred feet across the bottom. Three enormous branches grew out almost level to the ground, before lifting up into the sky. Branchlets from those three intertwined among themselves and created an enormous green shroud, which permitted almost nothing to be seen. The three main branches all turned at angles and eventually, as they headed up, intertwined and joined once more.

"So each team gets to tackle one branch," Mike said. "Ingenious."

"Thanks for stating the obvious, Weasley. We've got to choose which one we'll take."

Mike looked at her. "What's that for?" he asked, pointing at the sword at Elizabeth's side.

"Well, I finally bought it from Potter," she said.

"No, why'd you bring it here?"

"You might find out soon enough—"

"If we lose because it slowed you down—"

"We're more likely to lose because you hit something you're not supposed to."

"I resent that!"

"Champions!" Padma Patil called out.

Elizabeth and Mike quickly ran up to the small tent at the bottom of the tree, where the Krum twins and Fatima Dubois were already waiting. Veronique Rossi showed up a moment later.

"As you were told at the briefing, the teams will choose their path—the main branch—given their point standing. You have a minute to confer." She nodded at them and the Beauxbatons team.

They separated. "So which one?" Mike asked her.

"I like the northern one," she said. It was the longest, but was never as steep as the other two.

"Yeah, but see that—it's got a dark hole in it. Want to bet there's a boggart there?"

"So?"

"So, I've never seen one, or practiced the spell."

"Fine! Which one do you want?"

"Southwest. The crooked one."

"It's crooked, all right. How'd you propose we climb that?"

"Hey, I'm a good climber. I can handle it."

"Are you sure that's not your ego talking, Weasley?"

"Positive. I'd never put _you_ in danger because of my ego."

"You nearly gave me a heart attack with that stunt you pulled with the torch."

"Really? Maybe I should reconsider everything between us if you're such a weakling."

"I am not a weakling! But I still think we should take the north branch."

"I guess we'll need a compromise."

"Compromise?"

"We'll take the southeast branch."

"But—"

"Mr. Weasley! Miss Malfoy!" Padma yelled. "What's your decision?"

Mike resigned himself. "Southeast," he said.

"We'll take the north," Fatima Dubois immediately added, casting a glare at them.

"Very well. Take your positions," Padma ordered. "If you need help, send up red sparks. We'll have patrols on broomsticks flying around," she said.

The three teams took their positions. Elizabeth looked up, where a huge branch, some ten feet thick, hung over them.

"The champions are at the starting points!" Lee Jordan announced.

Elizabeth waited in silence. A few seconds later, a bright flash of light and a crack came out of Padma's wand. "And the task begins!" Lee Jordan shouted.

Elizabeth ignored it. She and Mike were both climbing, on opposite sides of the southeast branch.


	43. Teamwork Troubles

**Chapter 42. Teamwork Troubles.**

The tree bark was rough enough to climb without assistance. Of course, it was one thing to do that ten feet from the ground and another at two hundred, but if the rest of the tree was like this, they could do it. Nevertheless, even a short climb to the top of the main branch made Mike sweat.

He made it up onto the enormous branch and took a breath. Elizabeth was still climbing. He extended his hand.

"I don't need your help, Weasley," she snapped.

Mike grabbed her hand and pulled her up level with him. "We don't have time," he retorted.

Furious, Elizabeth reached for her wand.

"We don't have time for that, either. Come on."

Elizabeth resigned and followed him up the branch, using side branchlets as hand- and footholds. So far, either of them would be able to handle this alone.

"Why _was _Potter there with your father?" Mike attempted to strike up a conversation again.

"I told you already, none of your business, Weasley. Why didn't you give Padma Patil the branch you wanted? We were already past schedule, she wouldn't let us debate it again."

"Because that would be dishonest and place you at a disadvantage. Would you do that?"

Elizabeth didn't answer, and Mike continued to climb. About thirty feet later, he came upon a strange growth, which didn't resemble the Graht Tree at all. But the growth blocked their way, and was covered in sharp thorns.

"Well, Weasley?" Elizabeth said.

"I've seen this plant somewhere," Mike said. "I just can't remember where."

"Oh, that's useful," she said. "Here, let me through."

Elizabeth grabbed a handhold with her left hand, drew the sword with her right... and swung. One of the stems of the strange growth, at least two inches thick, broke off and fell. Elizabeth swung again, hacking off another stem. She proceeded with this for a few minutes, until there was enough room for a person to go through.

"Where would you be without me, Weasley?" she asked.

"I'd think of something."

"Yeah. Whatever," she said as she stepped across. "Watch out, these are sharp."

She was right. The sword, instead of cutting through the stems smoothly, left very sharp spikes. Mike would not want to land on them.

A spike brushed past his leg and drew blood. The entire plant suddenly came alive and rushed its tendrils towards them.

"Fuck!" Mike shouted, nearly jumping out of the way. "_Incendio_ I remember now! It's the Vampiric Shrub!"

"Oh, good job, Weasley!" Elizabeth said as she blasted several tendrils with a curse. "Now, you wouldn't remember how to stop it, would you?"

Mike didn't. He and Elizabeth dueled with it, stopping the thorny tendrils from reaching them.

"_Aguamenti__ C__alorio_" Mike shouted, and a stream of steam hit a group of tendrils. They wilted.

"Elizabeth!" Mike yelled. She nodded, and doused the plant with boiling water. They quickly scrambled out of its reach before it could recover.

"Did you—"

"Remember? No. But I don't know of any plant that likes hot water. It was a lucky guess."

Elizabeth nodded. "Let's go," she said, and resumed the climb. Mike followed.

He saw that Elizabeth was a decent climber—not as good as he was, but she didn't need his help in holding on. Still, he watched her closely.

Elizabeth suddenly yelped and dropped. Mike's reflexes kicked in, and he grabbed her arm. She hung on, wand in the hand that he held, as he pulled her up.

"That's a dirty trick," she announced. Mike reached out and had to agree. The next section of the branch appeared normal, but his fingers slipped as soon as they brushed it. "Damn," he said.

"Well, Weasley?" Elizabeth asked. "Any bright ideas?"

"Wait," he said, and reached out again. His fingers slipped once more.

"We can't crawl up, we can't climb up, we have no ropes—did you take the AnywhereString?"

"No. They said it's not allowed, like broomsticks, like—"

"I get it. In that case... _Incendio!_" Mike lit a fire and led the small flame forward, slowly moving it at least ten feet up the branch. "_Aguamenti!_" He put the fire out. Then he reached out to the burned area.

"It worked!" he said. "The charcoal layer makes it rougher. Come on!" And, getting down to his arms and knees, he crawled up. His robes were getting covered with charcoal, but he didn't care. He'd be able to clean that off easily.

The slippery section turned out to be only eight feet long. Mike got out of it and, looking back at Elizabeth, extended his hand. She took it, and he helped her finish. Her face was covered with soot.

"_Scourgify_" he said, and the soot vanished.

"I'm climbing first next time, Weasley," she said. "See how you like charcoal dust all over your face."

Mike shook his head and motioned to her to keep climbing. They were, judging by the fact that the climb was getting steeper, close to the place where the branch made a turn back to the center of the tree. Getting around that turn would probably be the hardest part of the climb.

But Mike quickly saw that even he wouldn't be able to do this. There were simply no branchlets that would enable him to get to the actual bend, and it was too big a risk to try climbing on the underside, up a negative incline, without support.

"What happened?" Elizabeth asked.

"I can't climb this."

"A Weasley, admitting he can't do something? This is a historic event!"

"Shut up!" he retorted. "We've got to get up there. Somehow."

"Wish that vine was here," Elizabeth said.

"What vine?"

"That one." She pointed some forty feet below. "It looks strong, long—and I know how to climb a rope."

"So do I, but—"

"What is it?"

"The vine should be moved," he said.

"But vines are attached, wrapped around branches, grow together with them. If we rip—"

"Who said anything about ripping?" he asked. "Watch." And he fired a spell at the vine.

The vine was no longer a vine. It was a long green snake.

"You are crazy. Crazy, Weasley."

"Damn, I can't control it—it's crawling up the wrong way."

"_Imperio_," Elizabeth said calmly. "You were saying?"

The snake crawled past them and up the branch, to the top part. It wrapped around the main branch twice, leaving the tail hanging right in front of them. Mike hit it, and the vine was back.

"After you," he said.

Elizabeth skillfully climbed the vine that had been a snake only moments before. Mike followed. Elizabeth helped him get up the branch and shook her head. "Potter wouldn't have to use the Imperius Curse," she said.

"Why not?"

"He's a Parselmouth."

"What? How do you know?"

"He told me."

"Why?"

"The same reason he was with my father at the families' meeting."

"Which is?"

"He's my godfather."

"What?"

"Well, he is."

"Okay, Elizabeth." He shrugged.

"Well, you wanted to know."

"I guess it makes sense..." he finally got out. "Well, godfather or not, he won't help us now. We should—"

A group of ten small flames dropped on them. One hit Mike square in the chest, lighting his clothes on fire. He screamed and dropped his wand.


	44. Rise and Fall

**Chapter 43. Rise and Fall.**

"_Aguamenti!_" Elizabeth shouted, pouring a stream of water over Mike. "_Accio!_" She caught his wand and handed it to him. "_Narcosio!_"

"Thanks." Seeing the small firebirds turn for another attack, they blasted them simultaneously with fountains of water.

"Gonna have to get new robes," Mike commented once that danger was over. "Thank you."

Elizabeth smiled. "You would do the same. Come on. We're almost at the top."

That was certainly the case. The branch was getting thinner, the wind stronger. Combined, these factors created a new problem—the instability of their support. They now had to climb very carefully, measuring every step or handhold. But they already could see, high above, the gleaming Triwizard Cup.

That happy sight, however, was marred by the other two teams, having gotten through their obstacles, climbing towards the prize as well. "We'd better hurry," Elizabeth said.

They were only twenty feet away from the cup when one of the Krum twins pointed at them. They were farther than they were, but closer than the Beauxbatons Champions. They had brought—or conjured up—ordinary ropes with hooks and were using them expertly. One of the ropes was already hooked at the branchlet closest to the top.

"_Confundo!_" one of the Bulgarians shouted. The spell flew towards them.

They were probably aiming for Elizabeth, who was in front. But the wind swung their branch at that moment, and the spell hit Mike in the face. He looked glazed.

"Hold tight!" Elizabeth ordered. Then, seeing the Durmstrang student raise his wand again, she aimed her own.

"_Sectumsempra!_" she shouted. The spell, aimed not at the enemy Champion, but at the tree itself, sliced off several branchlets, leaving nothing for their hooks to grab. The Krum twins slid down as the holds on their ropes' hooks were released.

Elizabeth looked down at Mike. "No," she said. "Mike, are you all right?"

"Yes," he managed.

"_Finite Incantatem!_" It had no effect.

She reached down. "Grab my hand," she said.

He did, and nearly fell. "Damn, damn, damn!" she cursed herself. Slowly, Mike climbed up, past her, and towards the top, supported by her the whole time.

"Now, try to climb yourself. Don't hurry—"

Maybe Mike would have done it, but another gust of wind shook their branch. Mike lost his balance and fell. Elizabeth grabbed his foot. She felt herself slide under his weight and grabbed a hold. Her wand fell down.

"I've got it!" Mike said. Daring a downward glance, she saw him holding her wand.

"Mike!" she yelled.

"The spell wore off. Just now!"

"What happened to yours?" she demanded.

"I dropped it. Sorry."

Elizabeth ignored him and looked up. The Cup was only ten feet away. So close... and yet, in the position they were in, so far. She wasn't strong enough to pull Mike up—she could barely keep her hold on him.

"Elizabeth!" Mike yelled. "Let me go!"

"What?

"Let me go! Get the cup!"

"No!"

"The Beauxbatons girls are already there! Get—"

"No!" Nothing would make her let go of Mike's foot now. If Mike missed the branch just below, he would plunge all the way to the ground.

Mike flicked her wand. Elizabeth didn't understand what he was doing until the sword slipped out of its scabbard and hovered up.

"Mike, what—"

Fatima and Dominique were approaching the Cup. Mike's face, Elizabeth saw, showed an almost inhuman concentration as he raised the sword higher, close to the top. Elizabeth could only watch.

Dominique Rossi was already extending her hand towards the Cup when the sword swung and sliced off the very tip of the tree. The Cup toppled away from the Beauxbatons girls, who screamed in frustration. Mike let go of Elizabeth's wand and caught the Cup.

The extra weight proved to be the last straw for Elizabeth. She released her hold and they both tumbled down.

Thud. Mike hit a branch with something. A second later, a pair of strong arms grabbed Elizabeth and slowed down their fall. The familiar sensation of broomstick flight gave her momentary relief. Slowly, they glided downwards, until Mike was gently laid on the ground. Only then did Elizabeth let go and got off the broomstick herself.

She turned to the wizard on the broomstick who saved them. It was Potter.

"Professor—" Elizabeth immediately turned away to look at Mike. She finally let go of his foot and looked at him.

"I... love... you," he whispered before fainting.

_He loves me_, she thought. _And I... I guess I did fall for him. I love you too, Mike..._

"Get him to the hospital wing," Potter ordered. As Mike's body was levitated, Elizabeth took his limp hand.

One of the wizards glared at her. "I won't let go," she declared.

"No, Miss Malfoy," Potter said, nodding at the wizard. "I don't suppose you would."


	45. Settling the Dust

**Chapter 44. Settling the Dust.**

Madam Pomfrey didn't let anyone inside while she worked on Mike's injuries, so Elizabeth stuck outside the door. It was there, after Potter headed off somewhere, that she encountered Mike's parents.

At first, they ignored her. When the assistant nurse told them Mike was resting and wasn't to be disturbed, they took their seats.

"He'll be okay, Ron," Hermione said. "Remember how many times you or Harry ended up there?" But she still paced the room. The whole scene reminded Elizabeth of one seventeen years before, with two of the participants being the same people.

_I guess that puts me in the role of Potter,_ she thought. _Does that mean that it's_—

"Okay," she whispered to herself. _I am in love with Michael Weasley. Perfect._

"Mrs. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey said. "Mr. Weasley. Your son will be fine. He's asleep now, but you can see him."

They went inside, and Elizabeth followed.

Mike was lying on the bed, still and pale. His breathing was intense, but regular. His parents sat down on the chairs provided, and Elizabeth, having no intentions to leave, pulled up another chair and took Mike's hand.

"What're you doing here?" Ron demanded.

"I want to be with Mike," she said, looking him in the eye.

"Why?"

"He's my—"

"He was your partner in the Triwizard Tournament, which is over. You—"

"Ron!" Hermione said. "You're being rude."

"No," Elizabeth said. "He's my boyfriend."

"What?!" Ron and Hermione shouted together.

"We've been dating since the second task. We've had an argument a month ago, but we settled it."

"Did your father put you up to this?"

That made Elizabeth angry. "My father doesn't know about this, and he's not going to like it. But I don't care, and when Mike wakes up, he'll say the same thing."

"Now wait just a minute—"

"Elizabeth!"

She turned. Her worst fear had come true. Her father stood in the doorway.

"What are you doing here? What are you doing with my daughter, Weasley?"

"Nothing. She claims to be dating _my_ son! That's—"

"Elizabeth? What—"

"I am. Dating Mike, I mean."

"No, you're not. I'll—"

"You can't stop me, Dad. I'm an adult."

"I can stop it—" Mike's father said. Her father looked at him uncertainly.

Elizabeth looked at Mike's mother, and got a wink. Hermione, clearly, like her, found the men's antics entertaining.

"Mike's an adult, too," Elizabeth said. "So no, you can't."

"Stop speaking for him!"

"Elizabeth," Mike muttered from the bed.

"Mike!" Ron, Hermione, and Elizabeth shouted at once.

"Stay away from him!" Ron and her father shouted at her at the same time. Then they glared at each other, and drew their wands.

The situation was getting dangerous. Hermione was about to pull out her wand, Elizabeth reached for hers, and Mike, seeing what was happening, attempted to get his. But then, a loud, authoritative voice shouted out from the doorway.

"Stop it! All of you!"

It was Potter. He held his wand in one hand, and—Elizabeth had no idea how this happened—her and Mike's fathers' wands in the other.

"Ron, Draco, don't worry. You'll get them back," he said as he strode in.

"When?" Elizabeth's father demanded.

"When you act your age," he replied. "Hi, Hermione. It's been a long time."

"Harry, listen—" Ron said.

"Hermione," Potter said, ignoring him, "did you bring it?"

"Oh. Here." She took out something out of her bag, tapped it with her wand, and it grew into a tightly bound sheath of parchment, covered in writing.

"Thank you, Hermione."

"Now, will someone explain to me what was going on?" Ron demanded. "And why are you lying to my son, Harry?"

"_Lying_?" he asked, surprised.

"You told Mike I never forgave you for Ginny's death. That that's why we stopped talking."

"Sure seemed like that, the way you acted at the first task. Are you saying it wasn't?"

"I forgave that a long time ago. I never forgave you for becoming friends with him." He pointed at Malfoy. "When I saw him as your best man at your wedding—and you getting married to a Muggle, no less—"

"And what's wrong with getting married to a Muggle?"

"Nothing—except that that coupled with Malfoy as best man—"

"People change, Ron. You know that."

"So what do you expect from me? Become friends with—"

"Number one, I don't expect anything from my friends. Number two, we're all on the same side here."

"What side is that?" Ron asked. "And what should—"

"We're on the side that makes it as difficult as possible for the next Voldemort to use the power of Atlantis," Potter announced.

"Atlantis? But that's—"

"A myth?" Hermione looked at her husband. "Unfortunately for us, no."

"Indeed not," Harry said. "I found it."

"You did?"

"Parts of it, at least."

"And why did you, and Malfoy, and as it appears, Hermione, have to—"

"Because of a prophecy," Harry said, "made shortly before Elizabeth's birth, that concerned her, and the ability to open up Atlantis."

"What was the prophecy?"

He shook his head. "The prophecy was made to me and Draco, but once Elizabeth, as the subject of the prophecy, came of age and was told its contents, it wasn't ours to reveal any more. The contents now belong to Elizabeth. Right now, only four people know it. All four are present."

"I still don't understand why you had to give it in full—" her father began.

"Hermione's smart. She'd know how to put two and two together. I decided it was a more productive use of her time to tell her outright."

"So this is information about Atlantis?" Mike asked, pointing at the bound sheath.

"That's right. I'd say it's one of the two most comprehensive sources in the world."

"What's the other?"

"My notes," Potter said. "I've traveled extensively, gathering information."

"Harry..." Mike's father whispered. "I don't know if I can..."

"I'm not asking you and Draco to be instant friends," Potter said. "I'm not stupid."

"So what do you expect?" her father demanded.

Potter smiled. "For the moment," he said, "I'll settle for an open lack of hostility. You will shake hands."

Glaring at each other, Elizabeth and Mike's fathers shook hands and quickly let go.

"Now," he said, "you should at least make an effort to see beyond the family prejudice. Your children managed it quite nicely."

"They're too young—" Ron began.

"They're older than Ginny and I were. Now, here's what you are going to do. You're all going to leave this room and give our resident couple some time alone. They need that after all they've been through today."

"No way, Potter!" her father shouted. "I'm not—"

"You _are_. Save your concerns, Draco. You forgot who Elizabeth's mother was."

"What? How can you—"

"I think I know something about strong, assertive women, having married two of them. In fact, I think we all know something about that subject. Come on. Madam Pomfrey will not let anything untoward happen, anyway. And I need some time to spend with my best friends, so why don't we head to Hogsmeade for a few drinks?"

Her father sulked and moved away, looking bitter.

"And just where are you going, Draco?" Potter asked.

"You said you needed to spend time with your best friends—"

"That's right. So where are you going?" And with that, they left.

Elizabeth couldn't think of anything to say. So she simply walked up to Mike's bed, leaned down, and kissed him.


	46. Departure

**Chapter 45. Departure.**

The next day, Mike was out of the hospital, prizes had been awarded, and Elizabeth, Mike and their parents sat in Potter's office. He and Elizabeth sat at one table, the gleaming Triwizard cup in front of them. Many names were engraved on it, the names of all Triwizard Tournament winners since the competition began. Most were dulled by time, but four were recent enough to gleam in bright gold letters.

_Cedric Diggory_

_Harry Potter_

_Michael Weasley_

_Elizabeth Malfoy_

"We did it," Mike said.

"Yeah..." She took his hand. He noticed that even that made Elizabeth's father uncomfortable. He wondered if Potter still had Mr. Malfoy's and his father's wands. He wouldn't be surprised if he had. His mother was probably the reason his father didn't start hurling hexes. What kept Malfoy...

"Dad, leave it." Elizabeth looked at her father, and he sat back in the chair after getting up.

Mike looked at his own father. "Yeah, Dad, leave it."

"Plagiarist," Elizabeth said.

"Borrower," he corrected. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Are you sure about—"

Elizabeth nodded. "It's the only way to get enough time—"

"They won't like it—"

"I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be the brave ones."

"That's why I asked _you _if you had doubts."

"Oh, really? I—"

"Just what are you two up to?" his mother asked, looking from one to the other.

"Up to?" His father turned. Malfoy also listened in, but at this moment, Potter walked in.

"There's very little to say that hasn't been said already," he began. "Well done." He nodded at Mike and Elizabeth. "And I'm not just talking about the Tournament, by the way.

"Now," he continued, "you two came to me and asked me for a certain favor—"

"Potter, what—"

"Nothing major, Draco."

"Harry," Ron started, "I've—"

"Ron, you worry too much. It's not like when we were at school, with Voldemort and Death Eaters running around."

"Maybe not—"

"No maybes. As I was saying, I'm giving each of you a certain piece of advice concerning the issue that brought us all together in the first place. I'm talking, of course, about the prophecy. Mike, don't try to get the contents of the prophecy from Elizabeth. When you're ready—if you're ready," he said, noting a gasp on Elizabeth's part, "she'll tell you. On the other hand, Elizabeth, don't act like keeping the prophecy secret from Mike is the most important thing in the world, since it isn't. Preserving your love is more important." As he was saying this, he looked poignantly at Mike's parents. "You know that risk can pay off, so don't forget it now. And good luck."

With that, Potter took something out of his pocket and handed it to Elizabeth. She took Mike's hand.

"What's that?" Ron asked.

"Well, in the wizarding word, we call it a Portkey," Potter said.

As the motion swept him and Elizabeth, Mike glimpsed all three of their parents get up and shout at Potter, "YOU GAVE THEM WHAT?!"


End file.
